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XRHelleele^ /Hbagasine 


Traces of Socialistic Thought in Nine- 
teenth Centuby English Poetey . 

In April 

Ten Tears After 

A Spring Symphony 

The English Stage at the Time of 
Shakespeare ...... 

Telling the Bees 

The Crocuses 

Some Groans and Warnings from Abroad 

The Witches' Fire 

The Spirit of the Age 

The Stars 

The Harvard Play 


Free Press 


Book Reviews 

Books Received 

Society Notes 

College Bulletin 

College Notes 

Alumnae Notes ....... 



Alice Welch Kellogg, '94 
Ellen Burroughs . 
Dorothy Allen 

Denison Wilt . 
Emily S. Johnson, '97 . 
Mary Hefferan, '96 
M. Muller 

Emily Budd Shultz, '94 
C. W. J., '95 
Christine Caryl, '95 
Katharine Lee Bates 



Doi. in Hpril, 1895 mo. 7 

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The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. III. WELLESLEY, APRIL 13, 1895. No. 7. 







The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
chosen from the Senior Class. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss M. H. McLean, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

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From one standpoint, poetry seems the last place in which to look 

for socialistic thought. Men consult tables of statistics, editorials, treatises, 

even novels, to discover humanity's problems and the schemes for remedy, 

but they seldom question the poets, whom they fancy so absorbed in 

Natui'e, so devoted to romance, and legend, and the charm of classic days, 

as to have no care for the oppressions of trade and the manifold evils 

springing from selfishness and lust. But what think the sweet singers 

themselves? Hear Mrs. Browning's answer: — 

" Nay, if there's room for poets in this world 
A little overgrown (I think there is), 
Their sole work is to represent the age, 
Their age, not Charlemagne's — this live, throbbing age, 
That brawls, cheats, maddens, calculates, aspires. 

For poets (bear the word), 

Half-poets even, are still whole democrats." 


Mark how Robert Browning bids Aprile rebuke a recreant poet for 

" Leaving as he found 
The world which he was to loosen, bound." 

Eecall James Russell Lowell's creed : — 

" Our country hath a gospel of her own 
To preach and practise before all the world, — 
The freedom and divinity of man, 
The glorious claims of human brotherhood, 
Which to pay nobly, as a freeman should, 
Gains the sole wealth that will not fly away. 
Never had poets such high call before, 
Never can poets hope for higher one; 
And, if they be but faithful to their trust, 
Earth willSremember them with love and joy, 
And, O far better, God will not forget." 

May we not, therefore, expect to find the poets deeply touched by 
the great wave of human sympathy which has swept down the Nineteenth 
Century? May we not look for traces of the enthusiasm of Fourier, Oweu, 
Lassalle, Morris, and Booth? Must we not trust them frankly to point out 
all social evils, and with no uncertain voice to declare the Brotherhood of 
Man, the Solidarity of the Human Race? 

On the borders of the Nineteenth Century, the poet world is startled 
from a cold and dreary formalism ; Thomson and Cowper are unfolding the 
glory of Nature, and 

" With such a book 
Before their eyes, men cannot choose but read 
Lessons of genuine brotherhood." 

Crabbe is painting with scrupulous exactness the colorless life of the 
English poor ; Burns is striking a high keynote in 

" A man's a man for a' that." 

When the French Revolution gives a powerful impetus to the new 
doctrines of Freedom and Equality, the Lake Poets are the first to dedicate 
themselves to the cause of man, " the common creature of the brotherhood." 

Wordsworth points out how a love for Nature, clearing his soul's 
vision, led him on to feel for all mankind. He makes studies of abject 
poverty with " the homely sympathy that heeds the common life." He 
reveals the horrors of crowded tenements, and presents the problem of 


environment, showing the limitations caused by excessive labor and 
"the close and overcrowded haunts of cities." Appreciating the sterling 
qualities to be found in rudest men, he frowns on all courtesy which has 
the air of condescension. He decides that toil to establish Justice and 
Liberty throughout the earth is far sweeter than scholastic meditation on 
those subjects. While deeply realizing the enormity of the abuses which 
"filled the astonished world," he holds an unfaltering belief that a benig- 
nant spirit is abroad, which cannot be withstood ; that empty pomp, cruel 
power, and false social doctrines will be abolished ; and, finally, as sum and 
crown of all, that the people will have a 

"Strong hand 
In forming their own laws, whence better days 
For all mankind." 

In 1842, there rises this clearest note : — 

" Feel for all as brother men! 
Rest not in hope want's icy chain to thaw 
By casual boons and formal charities ; 
Learn to be just, just thro' impartial law; 
Far as ye may, erect and equalize ; 
And what ye cannot reach by statute, draw 
Each from his fountain of self-sacrifice! " 

The young Coleridge, leaving a life of ease " to fight the bloodless fight 

of science, freedom, and the truth in Christ," goes forth with the blest 

assurance that 

" He who thus hath borne his part assign' d 
In the sad fellowship of human kind, 
Or for a moment soothed the bitter pain 
Of a poor brother, has not lived in vain." 

In the second strophe of his " Ode to the Departing Year," men are 

summoned to forget their private joys and sorrows, and devote themselves 

for a while to humanity at large. In later days, musing over a world gone 

all awry, he cries aloud in agony : — 

" We have offended, oh! my countrymen! 
We have offended very grievously, 
And been most tyrannous. From east to west 
A groan of accusation pierces Heaven ; 
The wretched plead against us ; multitudes 
Countless and vehement, the sons of God, 
Our brethren." 


When the music of Coleridge and Wordsworth is hushed, Byron and 
Shelley catch up the strain ; but the hurried sweep and fierce restlessness 
contrast strangely with the calm grief which has pointed out the way. 
Byron's Salamenes asks in indignation : — 

" Thinkst thou there is no tyranny but that 
Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice — 
The weakness and the wretchedness of luxury — 
The negligence, apathy, the evils 
Of sensual sloth, produce ten thousand tyrants, 
Whose delegated cruelty surpasses 
The worst acts of one energetic master, 
However harsh and hard in his own bearing." 

In " Queen Mab," Shelley hurls bitter rebuke after rebuke, comparing 
power to a desolating pestilence, and pleading the cause of the widow and 
the fatherless. Could there be sterner pictures than the following ? 

"That man 
Heeds not the shriek of penury; he smiles 
At the deep curses which the destitute 
Mutter in secret, and a sullen joy 
Pervades his bloodless heart when thousands groan 
But for the morsels which his wantonness 
Wastes in unjoyous revelry, to save 
All that they love from famine." 

" The drones of the community; they feed 
On the mechanic's labor: the starved hind 
For them compels the stubborn glebe to yield 
Its unshared harvests ; and yon squalid form 
Leaner than fleshless misery, that wastes 
A sunless life in the unwholesome mine, 
Drags out in labor a protracted death 
To glut their grandeur: many faint with toil, 
That few may know the cares and woes of sloth." 

The hopelessly miserable lot of the poor man is vividly portrayed — his fruit- 
less toil, his famishing family, his "hate as quenchless as his wrongs." 
While "justice and truth with custom's hydra brood wage silent war," the 
poet declares, "Disguise it not, we have one human heart." His idea of 
hell is " a city much like London," where "small justice is shown and still 


less pity." It is in his terrible "Masque of Anarchy," that he gives a 
laborer's definition of Freedom : — 

" Thou art clothes and fire and food 
For the trampled multitude, 
No — in countries that are free 
Such starvation cannot be 
As in England now we see. 
Thou art Justice — ne'er for gold 
May thy righteous laws be sold 
As laws are in England." 

<< Rise," he shouts to the pale hosts gathering from workhouse and prison, — 

"Rise, like lions after slumber, 
In unvanquishable number ! 
Shake your chains to earth like dew 
"Which in sleep had fall'n on you. 
Ye are many — they are few ! ' ' 

In a prophetic spirit, as it were, he closes : — 

" Wisdom! I hear the pennons of her car 
Self-moving, like cloud charioted by flame 

Comes she not and come ye not, 

Eulers of eternal tho't, 
To judge with solemn truth life's ill-appointed lot? 

Blind Love and equal Justice, and the Fame 
Of what has been, the Hope of what will be?" 

Hood follows close with a series of simple poems, which burn in upon 
the mind, as nothing yet has done, the pitiful condition of homeless girls, 
starving seamstresses, and day-laborers in vain search for work. Each line 
of "The Bridge of Sighs," "The Song of the Shirt," "The Lady's Dream," 
"The Workhouse Clock," and "The Lay of the Laborer," pleads for a 
helpless, downtrodden humanity, for whom 

"Evil is wrought by want of thought, 
As well as want of heart." 

The latter half of the century is marked by a spirit of increased energy 
and inquiry, finding its expression in the Brownings and Tennyson. There 
is wrung from Robert Browning the cry, "For oh this world, and the wrong 


it does!" Soon he has much to say of the love which goes out to all 
humanity : — 

" If you loved only that were worth yonr love, 

Love were clean gain, and wholly well for you. 

Make the low nature better by your throes ! 

Give earth yourself, go up for gain above! " 

In " A Death in the Desert" this thought is amplified : — 
"Men should for love's sake in love's strength believe. 

And no one asks his fellows any more, 
Where is the promise of Christ's coming? but, 
"Was He revealed in any of His lives 
As Power, as Love, as Influencing Soul ? " 

Paracelsus breathes the eager prayer : — 

' ' Make no more giants, God, 
But elevate the race at once! . . . 
All starting fairly, all equipped alike, 
Gifted alike, all eagle-eyed, true-hearted." 

The socialistic lesson of "Christmas Eve" is summed up in the 
resolve : — 

" Cautious this time how I suffer to slip 
The chance of joining in fellowship 
With any that call themselves His friends. 
As these folks do." 

The poetry of Mrs. Browning is ever keenly in touch with the "dear 
brotherhood of all the world." "Aurora Leigh" is itself a story of indi- 
vidual effort among the London slums. The discovery of frightful abuses 
forces Romney Leigh to cry as many have done since : — 

Being man, Aurora, can stand calmly by 
And view these things, and never tease his soul 
For some great cure? . . . Dear, my soul is gray 
With poring over the long sum of ill; 
So much for vice, so much for discontent, 
So much for the necessities of power, 
So much for the connivances of fear, 
Coherent in statistical despairs, 
With such a total of distracted life, — 
To set it down in figures on a page, 
Plain, silent, clear, as God sees thro' the earth 


The sense of all the graves, — that's terrible 
For one who is not God, and cannot right 
The wrong he looks on. May I choose indeed 
But vow away my years, my means, my aims 
Among the helpless, if there's any help 
In such a social strait? The common blood 
That swings along my veins is strength enough 
To draw me to this duty." 

Aurora is as deeply moved as he, but her standpoint is : — 

" I hold you will not compass your poor ends 
Of barley feeding and material ease, 
Without a poet's individualism 
To work your universal. It takes a soul 
To move a body : it takes a high-souled man 
To move the masses even to a cleaner stye : 
It takes the ideal to blow a hair's breadth off 
The dust of the actual. Ah, your Fouriers failed 
Because not poets enough to understand 
That life develops from within." 

In accordance with his democratic ideas the young Lord Romney ar- 
ranges to marry a girl of the slums, a rarely beautiful spirit, whose only 
knowledge of human justice, "the simple dues of fellowship, and social 
comfort," has been gained during a dangerous illness in a hospital. In con- 
nection with Marion Erie, Mrs. Browning portrays the miserable life of the 
London poor in darkest colors, made all the gloomier beside the utter self- 
ishness and cruel thoughtlessness of the wealthy, fashionable set. This 
contrast is kept constantly before the reader, reaching a climax in the church 
scene, where both extremes of society are invited guests to the strange 
marriage. As Marion tells her story — the story of multitudes of her 
sisters — one's heart aches unutterably. Incidentally the simple endeavor of 
the poor sewing girl to "hold the lamp of human love arm high" for her 
dying neighbor, at the price of losing her meager livelihood, tells its own 
lesson of self-sacrifice. 

At the close of the poem, Romney and Aurora meet to compare results. 
Romney Leigh's conclusion (which is Mrs. Browning's) is as follows : — 

"Beloved, we must be here to work; 
And men who work can only work for men, 
And, not to work in vain, must comprehend 
Humanity, and so work humanly, 


And raise men's bodies still by raising souls, 

As God did first. . . . But stand upon tbe earth 

To raise them (this is human too). . . . 

As God did last. . . . And work all silently 

And simply, as God does all ; 

Distort our nature never for our work, 

Nor count our right hands stronger for being hoofs. 

The man most man, with tenderest human hands, 

Works best for men — as God in Nazareth. 

Fewer programmes, we who have no prescience. 

Fewer systems, we who are held to do, not hold. 

Less mapping out of masses to be saved 

By nations or by sexes. . . . Subsist no rules of life outside of life, 

No perfect manners without Christian souls. 

The Christ himself had been no Lawgiver, 

Unless he had given the life, too, with the law. 

. . . " It is the hour for souls, 
That bodies, leavened by the will and love 
Be lighted to redemption. The world's old, 
But the old world waits the time to be renewed, 
Toward which, new hearts in individual growth 
Must quicken, and increase the multitude 
In new dynasties of the race of men; 
Developed whence, shall grow spontaneously 
New churches, new economies, new laws 
Admitting freedom, new societies 
Excluding falsehood : He shall make all new." 

In many another poem she heralds the advance upward and onward of all 

humanity, and the coming of that day when " To love best shall still be 

to reign unsurpassed." In her " Curse for a Nation" she writes : — 

" My heart is sore 
For my own land's sins : for little feet 
Of children bleeding along the street. 

For almsgiving thro' a door that is 

Not open enough for two friends to kiss." 

She pleads for "The women sobbing out of sight because men made 
the laws." She is the special champion of children, protesting against their 
employment in factories and mines, putting into their sorrowful mouths the 
wail : — 

" Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper, 
And your purple shows your path : — 
But the child's sob in the distance curses deeper 
Than the strong man in his wrath." 


Tennyson is like Mrs. Browning in his frank revelation of social crimes. 
In " Maud " we are told how 

" The poor are hovelled and hustled together, each sex, like swine. 

And the filthy by-lane rings to the yell of the trampled wife, 
And chalk and alum and plaster are sold to the poor for bread, 
And the spirit of murder works in the very means of life." 

And again, in " Locks] ey Hall Revisited " : — 

" Is it well that while we range in Science, glorying in the Time, 
City children soak and blacken soul and sense in city slime? 
There among the glooming alleys, Progress halts on palsied feet, 
Crime and hunger cast our maidens by the thousands on the street. 
There the master scrimps his haggard sempstress of her daily bread ; 
There a single sordid attic holds the living and the dead." 

He bids the wild bells 

" Eing out the feud of rich and poor, 
Ring in redress to all mankind. 
Eing out a slowly dying cause, 
And ancient forms of party strife ; 
Eing in the nobler modes of life, 
With sweeter manners, purer laws. 
Eing out the want, the care, the sin, 
The faithless coldness of the times. 

Eing out false pride in place and blood, 
The civic slander and the spite ; 
Eing in the love of truth and right, 
Eing in the common love of good. 
Eing out old shapes of foul disease, 
Eing out the narrowing lust of gold ; 
Eing out the thousand wars of old, 
Eing in the thousand years of peace. 
Eing in the valiant man and free 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Eing out the darkness of the land, 
Eing in the Christ that is to be." 

His ear is keen to 

' ' Hear with inward strife 
A motion toiling in the gloom, 
The Spirit of the years to come 
Yearning to mix himself with Life. 


His own confession is : 

"And I my harp would prelude woe — 
I cannot all command the strings ; 
The glory of the sum of things 
Will flash along the chords and go." 

Yes, he is above all a gloriously hopeful prophet : — 

" That which men have done but earnest of the things that they shall do. 

Till the war drum throbs no longer, and the battle flags are furled, 
In the Parliament of Man, the Federation of the World. 

Earth at last a warless world, a single race, a single tongue. 

Far away beyond her myriad coming changes, earth will be 
Something other than the wildest modern guess of you and me. 

Till each man find his own in all men's good, 
And all men work in noble brotherhood." 

The spirit of Mrs. Browning and Tennyson finds a counterpart in that 
of Lowell and Whittier, the two American poets whose writings embody 
socialistic thought. Throughout his poetry, Lowell delights to dwell on 
the " mighty brother-soul of man." "The Heritage" enforces the dignity 
of manual labor; "Hunger and Cold" and "The Ghost-Seer" fiercely 
declare the guilt of oppressing the poor. In " The Search," Christ's throne 
is shown to be " with the outcasts and the weak." In " A Parable," Christ 
is represented as coming to earth again, and pouring this scathing rebuke 
upon his proud followers : — 

" ' Have ye founded your thrones and altars then 
On the bodies and souls of living men? 
And think ye that building shall endure 
Which shelters the noble and crushes the poor? 
With gates of silver and bars of gold 
Ye have fenced my sheep from their Father's fold; 
I have heard the dropping of their tears 
In heaven these eighteen hundred years ! ' " 

" Then Christ sought out an artisan, 
A low-browed, stunted, haggard man, 
And a motherless girl, whose fingers thin 
Pushed from her faintly want and sin. 


These set He in the midst of them, 
And as they drew back their garments' hem, 
For fear of defilement, ' Lo, here,' said He, 
'The images ye have made of Me! ' " 

In the "Ode to France," he shows how 

" Grew and gathered thro' the silent years 

The madness of a People, wrong by wrong. 
There seemed no strength in the dumb toiler's tears, 
No strength in suffering; but the Past was strong: 
The brute despair of trampled centuries 

Leaped up with one hoarse yell and snapped its bonds, 
Grasped for its rights with horny, callous hands, 
And stared for God with bloodshot eyes." 

The " Biglow Papers" waged a vigorous crusade against slavery. 

Again he confronts unjust legislators with the unanswerable query : — 

"Think you Truth a farthing rushlight, to be pinched out when you will, 
With your deft official fingers, and your politician's skill ? 
Is your God a wooden fetish, to be hidden out of sight, 
That his block eyes may not see you do the thing that is not right ? " 

He holds always that " Before man made us citizens, great Nature 

made us men," and that " He's true to God who's true to man, wherever 

wrong is done." He strives to live his creed by " Work obscure done 

honestly," and " Vote for truth unpopular." Freedom, he maintains, is not 

"To break 
Fetters for our own dear sake, 
And with leathern hearts forget 
That we owe mankind a debt. 
No ! true freedom is to share 
All the chains our brothers wear, 
And, with heart and hand, to be 
Earnest to make others free." 

The lesson learned by Sir Launfal is 

" Not what we give but what we share; 
The gift without the giver is bare." 

His broad, progressive views shine out in 

"New times demand new measures and new men; 
The world advances, and in time outgrows 
Laws that in our fathers' day were best; 
And, doubtless, after us some purer scheme 
Will be shaped out by wiser men than we, 
Made wiser by the steady growth of Truth. 
We cannot bring Utopia by force." 


Hearing "the soul of man around him waking," he has shaped his 
hopes in " The Present Crisis" : — 

" For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct bears along, 
Bound the earth's electric circle, the swift flash of right or wrong; 
Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Humanity's vast frame, 
Thro' its ocean-sundered fibers feels the gush of joy or shame; 
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal claims. 
. . . And behind the dim unknown, 
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own." 

The Quaker poet's "Voices of Freedom," "Poems Against Slavery," 
and " Songs of Labor" have a fearless ring. His is 

" That stern majesty of soul 
Which knows no color, tongue, or clime." 

He has not written in vain, he says, if thou seest the 

" Oppressed and spoiled on every side, 
By Prejudice, and Scorn, and Pride, 
Life's common courtesies denied; 
Sad mothers mourning o'er their trust, 
Children by want and misery nursed, 
Tasting life's bitter cup at first. 

"If to their strong appeals which come 
From tireless hearth and crowded room, 
And the close alley's noisome gloom, 
Tho' dark the hands upraised to thee, 
In mute, beseeching agony, 
Thou lend 1 st thy woman's sympathy." 

Listen : — 

" Stand still, my soul; in the silent dark 

I would question thee, 
Alone in the shadow drear and stark 

With God and me ! 
What, my soul, was thy errand here? 

Was it mirth or ease? 
Or heaping up dust from year to year? " 

And the steady answer comes back : — 

"Nay, none of these!" 


for his purpose has ever been 

" The needed truth to speak, 
Eight the wronged, and raise the weak. 

"And to level manhood hring 
Lord and peasant, serf and king; 
And the Christ of God to find 
In the humblest of his kind ! 
His to work as well as pray, 
Clearing thorny wrongs away; 
Plucking up the weeds of sin, 
Letting heaven's warm sunshine in." 

His moral vision is of the clearest ; for he feels 

"That wrong with wrong partakes, 
That nothing stands alone; 
That whoso gives the motive makes 
His brother's sin his own." 

His faith in humankind is unshaken ; he looks 

" On man as man, retaining yet, 

Howe'er debased, and soiled, and dim, 
The crown upon his forehead set, 
The immortal gift of God to him." 

His is a " love outreaching unto all God's creatures, with sturdy hate of 
wrong." He looks ever forward, seeing in the future 

"Earth's own, at last, untrod 
By sect, or caste, or clan, 
The fatherhood of God, 
The brotherhood of man ! " 

Will Carleton's "City Ballads" follow very much as did Thomas 
Hood's. They deal with the factory worker, the starving poor, the blessing 
of the Fresh Air Fund, and the pitiful wages of sewing girls. 

What traces of socialistic thought will be found in the poetry of the 
future, it will be interesting to observe. Perhaps William Morris will 
embody his views in song. He has already written several " Chants for 
Socialists," called "The March of the Workers," "The Voice of Toil," 


" All for the Cause," " No Master," and " The Day is Coming." With ex- 
pectation, therefore, we echo James Whitcomb Riley's prophecy : — 

" Oh the Poet of the Future! He will come as man to man, 
With the honest arm of labor and the honest face of tan, 
The honest heart of lowliness, the honest soul of love 
For human-kind and nature-kind about him and above. 

" His hands will hold no harp, in sooth; his lifted brow will bear 
No coronet of laurel — nay, nor symbol anywhere, 
Save that his palms are brothers to the toiler at the plow, 
His face to heaven, and the dew of duty on his brow." 

Alice Welch Kellogg, '94. 

All day the grass made my feet glad ; 

I watched the bright life thrill 
To each leaf-tip and flower-lip ; 

Swift winds that swept the hill, 
In garden nook, light lingering, shook 

The budding daffodil. 

I know not if the earth have kept 

Work-day or festival : 
The sparrow sings of nestling things, 

Blithely the robins call; 
And loud I hear, from marsh-pools near, 

The hylas at night fall. 

Ellen Burroughs. 


(A Sequel to "Carl and I.") 

I had been in Nantucket two weeks. I had sailed, and rowed, and 
tramped — and sunburned. These two weeks had been full of happiness 
and rest, but a little lonely, for I was here alone, boarding with an ac- 
quaintance. I was now an independent young woman, carrying in my 
satchel the slender savings from a year's teaching, together with a few 
treasured bills, the proceeds from some stories born with silver spoons in 
their mouths, so to speak; not to mention one or two children of poverty, 
returned manuscripts. Few of the summer boarders had come, and I knew 
scarcely any one. 


To-day as I walked by the bay where the small catboats were moored, 
I thought of Carl and his " Blacke Ladye," and wondered when the}' would 
come to brighten things. Nantucket and Carl ! Thinking of one always 
called up the other, — my old friend with the light heart, and merry eyes, 
and ready hands. "He was a bonny lad," I thought, growing rather 
sentimental and poetical as I gazed vaguely toward the boats. But sud- 
denly I had eyes for only one, and that black with a red and blue pennant. 
I hastily bent under the railings to read the name on its stern, " The Blacke 
Ladye !" bobbing coquettishly at her moorings, napping and lapping in the 
light breeze ! " Carl is here ! " I exclaimed in a whisper of surprise. And 
I turned and walked home with a brisk step, full of pleasant anticipations, 
for at this time a friend that I could walk and talk with seemed doubly 

The day was very warm, and though it was early in the season, I 
determined to join the few bathers who might have dared the cold water 
for an afternoon swim. So tucking my bathing suit under my arm, with towel, 
hairpins, and looking-glass, I soon arrived, hot and dusty, at the beach, and 
quickly changed my clothes. The sand burned my stockinged feet with its 
heat as I tripped to the water's edge. A few couples lay basking in the sun, 
lazily stretched out on pillows and shawls, and watched me with embarrass- 
ing, engrossing interest as the only bather in sight. But I was proud of 
my swimming and plunged in, full of the spirit of " showing off" that we 
all indulge in sometimes. The choppy waves beat in my face, and loosened 
seaweed encircled my chin and throat as the water deepened. 

Soon I espied a yellow head bobbing quite near me in the unending; 
green. I watched it approach the jetty and draw itself out of the water with 
its accompanying arms and legs, until a blue and white striped figure sat 
drooping and dripping on the rocks. Now, there was no mistaking that 
sunny head, those square shoulders, that sun-browned face with its light 
blue eyes, and half-impudent, wholly self-sufficient mouth. It was Carl ! 
Determined that we should meet now and in our dripping condition (for 
what could this strange coincidence mean if it were not a provision of Provi- 
dence), I climbed on the rocks near him. He turned his head and saw me. 
" Carl," I said, " have you forgotten?" 
"Forgotten what?" he asked, surprised out of noticing who spoke. 


"Why, forgotten me" I answered, coming boldly closer, "and our 
sails together, and our swims, and — everything," I ended lamely. 

He looked dazed; then, slowly: "Forgotten you? Pardon me, but 
I must say — Is it possible ! Why, Berta, it must be you ! " 

"Yes," I laughed, " it is Berta, and she is in Nantucket again, 'a 
woman growed.'" 

We shook hands, and looked at each other well, both a little embar- 
rassed. Carl had changed. He was tall and rather thickset. College 
had given him a conventional, man-of-the-world manner, which agreed ill 
with his blue eyes, still innocent and kindly. I could see at a glance that 
he adopted the cynical and blasd; even in his clinging bathing suit, with 
the water trickling off the end of his nose and down his bare less, he tried 
to pull himself together to make some show of self-possession, and dignity, 
and indifference. As for his opinion of me, I tried to read that in his face, 
which, after the first moment of surprise and natural pleasure, had settled 
into a bored, rather insolent expression. But his eyes lit up when he 
looked at me, and I could read approval therein, and a little chagrin. For 
if he could act indifference, I could, too ; and taking my cue from him, I 
assumed an expression which, I flattered myself, was at once coldly dignified 
and humiliatingly indulgent. 

He questioned me as to where I lived, said that he should be happy to 
call to talk over old days (here he blushed uncomfortably, I thought), and 
ended by inviting me to take a swim before going in. We dived off the 
rocks, and like two little puffing steamboats, leaving a wake behind us, 
swam side by side to the shore. An enthusiastic audience greeted us by 
smiles and whispers as we came up the beach. And, indeed, it must have been 
amusing to see our meeting out on the rocks, and our friendly return home. 

Carl walked with me to our little cottage. " I shall take you out sailing 
to-morrow," he said when we reached my door, " and bring my chum along 
too, who is here with me. Will you go?" 

" With pleasure." 

1 ' And will you forgive us if we come to the house pretty often ? " 

"I shall always be glad to see you." 

" And will you forgive me for not having recognized you at first?" with 
a grand air of humility. 


" Certainly." 

" Then all is straight again, and I hope we shall have some more good 
times together." And with a smile of infinite devotion (which I could see 
he bestowed impartially on young ladies of his acquaintance) he left. 

Thus I renewed my friendship with Carl and the "BlackeLadye." She 
had been sailing poorly, so I was told, but, these days, made the record of 
her life. Carl's young friend, Tom, went with us, — a diffident, silent young 
man with strangers, but with us talkative and bright. Our little boat over- 
flowed, and often came near upsetting, with our gaiety. Carl changed from 
unconscious boyishness to conventional gallantry. On the water he was 
himself (an infinitely better self than the one he tried to be) , but on land it 
was hard not to be irritated by his bored and conceited bearing. He could 
be so lovable, however, that one forgave him the rest. 

At last the end of my holiday drew near. I was not very sorry, for in 
a few days my friends would be obliged to divide their time with their fast- 
coming host of acquaintances. My farewell day came, and reminded me of 
the day so long ago when I had last seen Nantucket. Carl and his friend 
came in the evening to say good-bye. Carl looked very shy and embarrassed, 
and I began to feel a little uncomfortable myself. He talked little, and, when 
Tom left (as if by some previous arrangement) , Carl seemed relieved and 
yet distressed. 

After we were alone, I settled down as placidly as I could, and turned 
to him. " Do you remember," I began, " our touching farewell when we 
were children?" 

Carl cleared his throat. "Yes," with forced sprightliness ; " and I gave 
you a ring. You wrote a story in your college paper once about having a 
ring and all that. Did you mean my ring?" 

" Well, I did, and didn't." 

" Have you got it still ? " 

" Yes, somewhere." 

" A man does funny things when he's a kid. Has a sweetheart every 
year, and flings rings around promiscuously. Don't you think so ? " 

"Well, yes." ("Surely, my young man," thought I, "your conceit 

does not lead you to suppose " ) . But just what it did lead him to suppose 

he showed by his next words. 


" I was that sort of boy, you know. A happy, go-lucky sort of fellow. 
Bless me ! the number of cases I had ; and each case seemed to me to be the 
true, everlasting thing." He crossed his legs and laughed in what he took to 
be a thoroughly innocent, thoughtless, tactful way. 

" I think," said I, growing angry in spite of myself, " now that you 
have grown to manhood, you would do well to gather back these trophies, 
and shower them all in the lap of the ' not impossible she.' " 

"Just what I was thinking myself," he said, relieved and gay, " and I 
should like, my dear friend, to relieve you of the little ring I gave you ; 
for, no doubt, you will be very glad to get rid of it." He said this very 
sweetly, and nattered himself that he had done it well. 

" Well, I can't and I won't !" 

"Can't what?" 

" Give 3'ou back the ring." 

"Why, I thought " and he blushed all over his neck and ears. 

"But, of course, if you care for it " 

"I do care for it." 

He looked at me closely. I, too, had turned red. Then, flinging aside 
all gallantry and getting excited, "But, Berta, I must have it. We were 
only children, you know. You really — don't you see — not that I really 
mind — I'm glad you like it, but, but — hang it ! I'm engaged !" He had 
gotten up and stamped about ; now he sat down suddenly and looked at me. 
"That's all; you see, I'm engaged to Tom's sister, and engaged men can't 
have rings scattered around." His blue eyes were almost irresistible. 
While I pitied and smiled on him in my heart, I said, angrily, "Neverthe- 
less, you can't have it." 

" Do you mean to say you are jealous? I knew you liked me, but I 
never thought — oh, what a mess ! Have you no pride?" He looked really 

"You can't have it," I continued, rising and holding out my hand, with 
a beaming face, "because, Carl, I'm engaged, too, and have given it away 
to him ! " 

"Berta !" his voice rang through the room. " Is it so ? How glad I am ! 
How happy you make me !" He looked at me as one before him had looked ; 
and he never knew, in his blessed frankness, how very ungallaut he was ! 


I left the next morning. Carl and I parted dear friends. He has made 
another ring from a ten-cent piece to go on another hand, which soon is to 
wear, so I hear, still another ring, broad and plain, and of gold. And this 
is the end of " Carl and I." Dorothy Allen. 


" In green underwood and cover 
Blossom by blossom tbe spring begins." 

There is a subtle something in the first dawn of the springtime from 

the winter's night and gloom, that has appealed to the hearts of men down 

all the centuries. The breath of the sweet April breezes, the damps of the 

fresh April showers, the perfume of the brave April blossoms that dare the 

lingering touch of wintry weather, have written themselves into the songs 

of many lands and many times. And no one has sung more sweetly or more 

truly of the love and longing of the spring than did he of old whose name 

the flight of many Aprils has buried too deep for resurrection, but whose 

clear song rises fresh and free, triumphant over time and change. Hearken 

to his music that pours forth so joyously from the far-away days of an 

English spring : — 

Lenten ys come with lone to toune, 
With blosmen & with briddes roune, 

That al this blisse bryngeth ; 
Dayes-eyes in this dales, 
Notes suete of nyhtegales, 

Vch foul song singeth. 

The threstelcoc him threteth oo, 
Away is huere wynter wo, 

When woderoue springeth ; 
This foules singeth ferly fele, 
Ant wlyteth on huere wynter wele, 

That al the wode ryngeth. 

The rose rayleth hire rode, 
The leues on the lyhte wode 

Waxen al with wille; 
The mone mandeth hire bleo, 
The lilie is lossom to seo, 

Thefenyl & thefille; 
Wowes this wilde drakes, 
Miles murgeth huere makes ; 


Ase strem that striketh stille, 
Mody meneth, so doth mo, 
Ichot ycham on of tho, 

For loue that likes ille. 

The mone mandeth hire lyht, 
So doth the semly sonne bryht, 

When briddes singeth breme; 
Deawes donketh the dounes, 
Deores with huere derne rounes, 

Domes forte deme ; 
Wormes woweth vnder cloude, 
Wymmen waxeth wounder proude, 

So wel hit wol hem seme : 
Tef me shal wonte wille of on, 
This wunne weole y wole forgon, 

Ant wvht in wode be fleme. 

— 13th Century. 

Even the words of our own day echo the quaintness of the old-time 

thought :- 

Again the spring has come with love; 
Blossoms around, bird-songs above, 

And all this bliss she brings. 
The daisies white are in the dales, 
We hear sweet notes of nightingales, 

Each bird his own song sings. 
The thrush his rivals all outgoes, 
Afar are gone their winter woes ; 

The asphodel upsprings. 
Unwearied birds trill forth their lays, 
And twitter of their winter days, 

Until the whole wood rings. 

The red rose flaunts her petals gay, 
The leaves on every tender spray 

Wax greener hour by hour. 
The moon sends forth her clear, pale light, 
The lovesome lily greets the sight, 

Wild thyme and fennel flower. 
Now e'en the wild-drake wooes his mate: 
Soft as a brook flows lovers prate, 

Eejoicing in their bower. 
But moody men make known their woe, 
And I am one of them, I know; 

Unloved, I feel love's power. 


The moon her radiance sheds at night ; 
In splendor beams the great sun bright, 

While loud the bird-songs swell. 
The downs are moistened with the dew ; 
Lovers their whispered vows renew, 

And fond decisions tell. 
Even the worms now woo and wed ; 
In pride a maid lifts her fair head 

(And it becomes her well), 
If any man gives her his love. 
From all these joys I will remove, 

And as an exile dwell. 

Geneva Crumb, '97. 


Bloom-laden Spring has come this way, 
With love, and birds' sweet roundelay, 

Her train of pleasures bringing. 
The starry daisies in the dales ; 
Sad, tuneful notes of nightingales ; 

Each bird his own song singing. 
Gone are all thoughts of winter drear ; 
Whistles the thrush a challenge clear, 

When asphodels are springing. 
In chorus full of ravishment, 
The throbbing throats to praises lent 

Set all the woods a-ringing. 

The rose her ruddy gown puts on, 
And tender leaves that woods now don, 

With sturdy will all grow. 
The moon sheds over all her light, 
On lilies white, — a lovely sight, — 

Fennel and wild thyme low. 
The wild drakes woo again their mates, 
On merry play all nature waits. 

Like brooks that softly flow, 
So moans, ah, many a moody man; 
Of this sad number one I am, 

For love which brings me woe. 

The moon sends forth her pale, faint rays; 
Bright shines the sun with light ablaze, 

While sing the birds for glee. 
The night dews dampen all the downs : 
Lovers amid the twilight browns 

On secret troth agree. 


Soft, stirring life the clods thick crowd: 
All women grow now wondrous proud, — 

Becoming 'tis to see, — 
If one dares whisper of his love. 
This wealth of joy's too far above 

For banished wight like me. 

Lucy Branch Allen, '97. 

Across the water of the stormy channel, in the sunny land of France, 
another poet of a later century sang the music of the spring : — 

Avril, la grace, et le ris 

De Cypris, 
Le flair et la douce haleine; 
Avril, le parfum des dieux, 

Qui, des cieux, 
Sentent l'odeur de la plaine; 

C'est toy, courtois et gentil, 

Qui d'exil 
Betire ces passageres, 
Ces arondelles qui vont, 

Et qui sont 
Du printemps les messageres. 

Bemy Belleau, 16th Century. 

Our modern song, too, is full of the beauty that comes when "the 
spring wakes again in God's thought of the world" ; but we will not break 
the spell of the old music by even the harmony of the new ; and our last 
flute note shall be an echo still : — 


April, thou art the smile 

That erewhile 
Cypris wore ; and thy birth 
Is so sweet that in heaven 

The gods even 
Are breathing the perfume of earth. 

'Tis thou, gracious and mild, 

Hast beguiled 
Those exiles fleet of wing, — 
Exiles long time afar, 

Swallows that are 
The messengers faithful of spring. 



Though our subject seems enormous in its comprehensiveness, and our 
time brief, we shall attempt to give you some impression, slight though it 
may be, of the different things of interest relating to the stage at the period 
of which we write. Let us glance at the accessories of the theatre, actors, 
playwrights, plays, and, since the audience has much to do with the charac- 
ter of the plays produced for their amusement, at the theatre-goers of that 
period which embraced the beginning as well as the culmination of the 
popularity of the Drama. 

In 1584 the Drama had become so popular that the best companies played 
in theatres built for the purpose, instead of going about the country in strolling 
bands, playing in any convenient inn-yard, as they had in Shakespeare's boy- 
hood. The most important London theatre at this time was Blackfriar's. 
Let us go back a few centuries, and join the crowd going at three o'clock 
one afternoon to see Marlowe's newest and best play, " Dr. Faustus." 

In the court before the theatre all is hubbub and confusion. Young 
gallants ride in and call loudly for Will Shakespeare, the favorite " horse 
boy," to come for their horses. Others are pushing and crowding in at the 
narrow entrance whither we direct our steps. Once inside we notice the 
high galleries rising from a semi-circular space where stands the stage, on 
which are seats for the wealthier portion of the audience. Only the stage 
and tiring rooms are roofed with thatch, the rest of the theatre being open 
to the sky. Before we have time to look further the music begins, and very 
soon the curtains are drawn. There is but little scenery, and to us, who 
have come from an age of gorgeous stage setting and magnificent costuming, 
the details seem meagre and crude. But we soon forget this in watching 
the actors, all men and boys, for the women's parts are taken by beardless 
youths whose voices are still high pitched. They, in their turn, become 
merged in the play which they are presenting, and which surprises us with 
its power and earnestness and freedom. The acting, too, forms a far more 
important part in this theatre than in those of our age, for the defects of 
scenery and costume must be overcome in part by its greater excellence, 
and, therefore, the majority of the actors are good instead of poor, as is the 
case to-day. 


After the first act we have time to glance around us at the audience. 
The portion on the stage attracts our notice first on account of the bright 
and rich costumes and strange behavior, for these " darlings of society" do 
not hesitate to talk and laugh loudly during the performance, or even to 
engage in brawls with rivals for the smiles of some favorite. As for the rest 
of the audience, we see few women among them, and the best of order is 
not preserved ; nevertheless, we recognize the faces of many of the learned 
men of the times, and see that they are looking at the play with as much 
interest and appreciation as we ourselves feel. But there is no time to look 
further, for the play holds our attention to the end, when, after the " Dance 
of the Fools," to the music of pipes and drums, we make our way out with- 
out even glancing at the young " horse boy," who is soon to be so famous. 
Such was the stage as Shakespeare found it when he first went to London, — 
alread} r rich in much that was beautiful, strong and earnest. Let us stop 
there once more, on our way home a few years later, to see what changes 
have taken place. 

The first thing we hear when we reach the city is a eulogy of the latest 
play written by the great playwright, the court's favorite poet, William 
Shakespeare. On every side we hear his praises sung, and every tongue 
wags over the great tragecty of " Macbeth," now being given at the new 
Globe Theatre, of which the poet is proprietor. Will Shakespeare — the 
name sounds familiar ; we remember our first visit to a London theatre and 
the young horse boy, and determine to make one of the audience at the 
Globe that evening, to see if the duckling has really turned out to be a swan. 
We find that the theatre is much the same as Blackfriar's as we remember 
it, — hectagonal in shape, open to the sky, with the exception of the stage 
and tiring-rooms, and divided into galleries and boxes, w T ith seats on the 
stage as of old. But when the curtain rises we begin to see changes. The 
scenery is much better, and the costuming is beautiful, often magnificent, 
the greatest care being given to details. Our friend Sir Henry Watton 
had said that the new play had been produced at the Globe with a splendor 
almost regal, and we find ourselves echoing his words in our own minds, 
while we listen with increasing wonder and enthusiasm to the drama before 
us. Richard Burbage is acting as he never acted before, and as we listen to 
the words of the great tragedy with their surpassing strength and power, 


we forget that the theatre is primitive, the stage small ; we forget the 
scenery, the costuming, the audience, the actors even, and lose ourselves in 
the weird horror of the plot presented to us. But there is a lull — the 
curtains are dropped, and we lean back trembling with the emotion aroused 
by what we have seen and heard. 

And now we look with interest at the audience who can appreciate such 
a play, and find that it is worthy of our study. There are more ladies 
than there were in the audience at Blackfriar's, and they have fine, intelligent 
faces. The stage has always reflected and always will reflect the quality of 
the public which supports it ; and what this public must be, what strong 
heads and sound hearts are to be found in this audience, we, who are 
acquainted with the drama of the period, cannot doubt. Nearly every face 
shows a capability of appreciating the finest lines and deepest thought in 
the play, and we feel instinctively that here is no common crowd of people. 
Men who wrote for the theatre in those days were careful not to write over 
the heads of their audiences ; so when they put into their work vigor, rich 
imagery, and variety, it must have been because they knew that they should 
find a ready response in the intellect and imagination of their hearers. 

The men and women whom we see around us do not come to the 
theatre merely for amusement. Life is a serious thing to them. Books are 
few, and people have to think for themselves, and to unravel knotty 
problems with what help they can get from pulpit and stage ; therefore the 
stage is a place of education, and the masculine mind of the people of this 
age is, perhaps, the only one which can fully appreciate the drama of the 
period in the full significance of its power and beauty. 

Such was the stage as Shakespeare made it : never again to be so 
great ; never to see such acting ; never to be so rich in thought and depth 
of feeling, as in the time when the poet himself was author, proprietor, and 
actor in his London theatre. Denison Wilt. 


Little Melissa sat on the doorstep, crying bitterly. Her mother, her 
own dear mother, was dead. She was only four years old, but she knew 
what death meant, poor baby; for in those early days the country was 


thinly settled and Indian raids were frequent. In one of these skirmishes 
Melissa's father had been killed, and her brother Ben, — Ben, who used 
to take her on his knee, and pull her curls, and call her his sweetheart. 
Melissa remembered those days with a vague sorrow, and sometimes even 
yet she was lonely for Ben. But this was different. This time it was her 
mother, her own mother, at once the idol and the companion of her long, 
happy days. There was a great ache in her baby heart, and the big tears 
rolled down her cheeks and fell into the lap of her pink calico pinafore. 

A gaunt woman in a green taffeta sunbonnet came out to the door. 

" There, there, Melissy !" she comforted. " Don't take on, now, don't 
ye. There, there, child ! Run get your bonnet and go down to the pasture 
for me ; I want a bit of mint." 

Melissa clenched her chubby, dirty hands in the effort not to sob in the 
presence of this matter-of-fact, angular neighbor. After a moment she con- 
trolled herself. 

" Yes'm," she said obediently. 

Then off she trudged without her bonnet, the hot sun beating down 
upon her head. As she went through the house-garden the apple-tree by 
the gate dropped a tiny green apple, the very beginning of a perfect fruit, 
upon her curls. Melissa did not notice this kindly benediction. She was 
crying quietly now, with half-stifled sobs: "Mother! mother! Oh, my 
pretty mother ! " 

The great, sweet heads of the red clover touched her bare, sun-burned 
legs as she trudged wearily along. The path was narrow, and the meadow 
grass swept down, tall and cool, and wound itself about the tardy feet. 
Over at the edge of the woods an oriole flashed his scarlet in and out among 
the cedars. The sun shone, and the clouds sailed lightly in the blue. But 
ever from the little figure in the meadow-path came the piteous refrain : 
" Oh, mother, mother ! Oh, my pretty mother lady ! Mother, mother !" 

A bee came humming along over the clover, sipping here and there, — 
a busybody, buzzing with the insistent cheerfulness of his kind. Melissa 
stood still to watch him. 

In the middle of the field grew a great maple tree. Under this were 
the bee-hives, pointed, straw-thatched, just as in far-off England. The bees 
were going in and out, burdened and light, filling the air with a gentle hum. 


Melissa crossed the field and stood against the tree, close to the largest hive. 
She was not at all afraid of the bees ; they never stung her. 

She remembered how, when her father was found dying, and brother 
Ben lay dead in the front room, her mother had stolen away a moment from 
her husband's side "to tell the bees" of Ben's death. Now her mother was 
white and still, and she alone was left to tell the bees. She went up to the 
hive and knocked very gently. 

"Bees," said she, "listen, bees. My mother is dead, — my pretty 
mother that laughs. She will not come out any more. She is dead, bees. 
She will not speak even to me, — me, little Melissa ! " And then she fell 
a-crying, and put her arms up over her face, and sobbed and sobbed. 

The bees buzzed and hummed about her, and a light wind rustled the 
maple leaves. The shadows danced over the yellow leaves, and the grass, 
and the little figure in the pinafore. Then Melissa grew quiet. 

"It's no use, bees, dear," she said. " She is dead, you know. She 
cannot talk to us. I just came to tell you, bees. You see, I'm lone- 

Emily S. Johnson, '97. 


High in the night hung the moon, so cold, 
Bending down to the earth, so old, 
With her finger tips on her icy lips, 
Hiding her face in a cloud eclipse, 
Silently touched the crocus cups, 
The shivering crocus cups. 

Back shrank the spirit of Spring, so chilled; 
Eyes with the tears of a hurt so filled ; 
But pitiful Night, with a coverlet white, 
Crooning a lullaby, tucked out of sight 
The quivering crocus cups. 

Deep in the crocus heart, so still, 
Slumbered the soul of Spring, until 
Through the tears and sighs of April skies 
The sun dropped a kiss on the wide, sweet eyes 
Smiling up from the crocus cups, 
The trembling crocus cups. 

Mary Heffekan, '96. 



Dear Wellesleyites : Last summer when I took my sad leave of 
the beloved Land of Liberty, my grief was somewhat softened by the an- 
ticipation of one particular joy among others awaiting me in the Fatherland ; 
i. e., the joy of bathing the German part of my soul for a year or two in 
the regenerating atmosphere of none but genuinely pure German sounds, 
which, alas, talented as the Wellesley girls are in linguistic performances, 
are not always heard from them in the German class rooms. However, in 
looking forward thus eagerly to this baptism in the Jordan of my mother 
tongue, I had left out of consideration the American student abroad, — an 
o;nission I realized at once in coming to Gottingen, where the first people I 
met were Americans, addressing me in the familiar " foreign" brogue, and 
bent on talking German to me, although I should have understood their 
plain English much better. Feeling physically strong after a long, delight- 
ful vacation, I took my fate of continually being thrown with these " Germo- 
maniacs " quite humorously, until, after various sad experiences in that 
line, my nerves were worn out, and I began to become subject to a halluci- 
nation that still occasionally takes hold of me when some indifferent for- 
eigner pours his bad German over me ; and with one or two exceptions they 
all talk bad German here. Imagine that for a month or two I saw, or rather 
felt, the person jabbering at me in the way mentioned, change into a formi- 
dable machine, grinding out, with many achs and krachs, words and senten- 
ces which no more resembled the living- German language than the Homun- 
cuius in the phial resembled a real man. How I got into this pathological 
state ? Listen. 

Upon my arrival at Gottingen last October, I arranged to take my din- 
ners with a German family, who, like one tenth of the families at G. , have 
foreigners boarding with them. At the table I was placed between an Eng- 
lish woman, who, in the exasperating way of the English, did not move her 
lips when she spoke German, and an interesting countryman of yours, who 
did not, as he ought to have done, make desperate efforts to improve his 
German. The feeling of responsibility for the linguistic improvement sadly 
lacking in him was, however, doubly felt by his conscientious landlady, 
whose anxiety for him when he dropped into English resembled the anxiety 


of a hen seeing the duckling among her little ones plunge into the water. 
One day this enfant terrible began to tell a story, saying to the assembled 
company: "Ik wisse" (voice from across the table, " weiss"). "Thanks. 

Ik weiss ein Mann" (voice "kenne "). "Thanks. Ik kenne ein Mann " 

Here the voice again corrected, ' 'Linen Mann;'''' whereupon my unfortunate 
neighbor quickly turned to me, telling me as rapidly as he could in English 
what he knew about this man, and then continued to ask me some questions, 
which I, not realizing what I was doing, answered in the same idiom. After 
dinner the offended mother hen begged to be allowed to speak to me. She 
told me that since Mr. X. intended to take his Ph.D. in two years, it was 
absolutely necessary for him to learn to speak German just as soon as he 
possibly could, and that she must request me not to converse with him in 
English. Bearing in mind that the lady was an excellent cook, I gently 
asked her to let me sit near one of the three or four Germans at the table. 

" I cannot arrange that very well," she said. 

"I do want to talk Gei'man," I replied, "not, however, to one who 
is not likely to understand even the simplest remark about the weather." 

"Why, then, don't you talk to my brother?" (That gentleman sat at the 
other end of the table). 

"I beg your pardon, but I don't think that would be quite polite," I 

" Do you think" (here my judge's voice and eyebrows were raised threat- 
eningly) , " do you think it is more polite to talk English at a German table ? " 

Alas ! I had to give up the good dinners, to the great astonishment of 
the lady, who afterwards commented on me to friends of mine as " altogether 
too independent." I tried my luck at another boarding place, kept by a 
sweet little Frau Doktor, with whom I had almost come to terms, when I 
remembered to ask her if she had any foreigners at her table. She tri- 
umphantly assured me that almost all of her boarders were Americans. I 
rose in consternation and hurriedly bade her good-bye. I now half decided 
to order my meals from a hotel, — for taking dinners at the table d'hote with- 
out a protecting male at your left is not considered ladylike, — but dreading 
the lonesomeness involved in this arrangement, I made one more attempt at 
a "pension." Here at last I was fortunate enough to have a very intelligent 
German lady for my left-hand neighbor, while my opposite proved to be the 


only American man in G. who, having had the good grace to study German 
several years before he came to this university, speaks it almost as well as 
a native. My neighbor at the right, however, was one of those exasperating 
individuals who speak the German fluently, but with no conception whatever 
of grammar. He frankly told me at the first dinner that he had never 
wasted his energies on learning to know the genders, the declension, etc., 
and that it did not make the slightest difference to him whether he used the 
Dat. or Ace, the der, die, or the das. To me, however, this did make a 
difference. I moved away from him the next day, and am now at last able 
to take my meals undisturbed by any fearful sounds in my immediate neigh- 

And now, after having sufficiently groaned myself, I must tell you with 
some feeling of satisfaction about the groanings of these depraved mortals 
who have had the ignorance, thoughtlessness or audacity to take up studies at 
a German university without knowing the first thing about the language used 
in the lecture rooms. There are about thirty American men here at G., 
most of whom are in the departments of Chemistry, Physics, etc., while 
only a small number attend lectures in German and English Philology. 
Two of the latter, bright young fellows who have graduated from the Uni- 
versity of the South, attend with me the lectures of Professor Heyne, the 
well-known Germanist. Since they sit at the same bench with me and never 
try to air their German on me, we converse a good deal, they in wailing, 
I in comforting tones, for they need comfort on account of the discom-age- 
ment to which they have fallen victims. Why? Well, one of them had 
studied, or rather translated German for two years before he came over 
here ; the other began to acquire it during the ocean voyage last fall. They 
are both eager to get their degrees in two years, the shortest time re- 
quired, and listen with intense interest to the lectures, after which they 
confess with a deep sigh that they " haven't got a thing" out of it. Only 
this morning they told me that one of their professors at home had given 
them the "absurd" advice to " jump right into the work " ; the necessary 
knowledge of German would follow naturally. Well, they did jump, and 
are not likely to recover from it these next four years. These men, who are 
typical of a great number of American students in Germany, have to use 
the lectures which ought to inspire them to do individual work, simply as a 


means of learning German, which they could do much more profitably, al- 
though with less show, by taking private lessons or by attending an under- 
graduate school. 

There is a woman, too, who came to Germany three months before the 
opening of the university, knowing no German at all and expecting to learn 
it during that time. She set to work with a most awful zeal, using each 
and everybody as convenient Versuchspersonen for her awkward tongue- 
gymnastics, and in her Biereifer not only made herself quite ill, but also was 
a discomfort to all who came in contact with her. One day I told her, in 
German, of course, that I had received a letter from America, the contents 
of which might interest her. " 1st es in deutsch?" she immediately in- 
quired in bad German and with a most anxious look on her face. As it was 
not " in deutsch " she did not ask me to read it to her. 

This afternoon another of your countrywomen, a lady who had studied 
German I do not know how long, and had taught it three years before she 
came here, confessed to me in a complaining voice that she would have got 
ten times as much out of her one year's work at the university had she 
known the German language and structure better. I might go on indefi- 
nitely telling you about your misled countrymen, but I think I have suffi- 
ciently impressed it on your minds that a thorough knowledge of German is 
absolutely necessary for those of you who intend to take one or two years 
of study at a German university, as I hope a number of you will do some 
time, for living and working in the atmosphere of these great old institutions 
is an experience well worth having. You do not, of course, absolutely need 
an extensive knowledge of German to carry on advanced studies in the 
Natural Sciences, in Mathematics, etc. ; but you do need it for any work in 
Philology, Literature, History, etc. Prepare yourselves either by taking 
five or six years of German at Wellesley, or if you know something about 
the language, by living at least a year in Germany ; in which case I should 
advise you, however, to go to a quiet, leisurely little city, where the people 
still have strong nerves, where a foreigner is still considered a rare bird to 
be received with open arms, and where your " Komisches Deutsch" fills the 
people with as much delight as Mark Twain's German-English brogue does 
some of us. Then when your German wings have grown to their full length, 
emerge from your seclusion, associate with the intellectual leaders of the 


nation, get near the hearts of our best women, and fill yourselves with the 
best the German people can offer you. 

In closing, I want to say a few words about the opportunities for studies 
here at Gottingen. They are especially favorable for women, as they are 
allowed not only to attend lectures and recitations and working classes at 
the university, but also those at the annex arranged for German women 
teachers. This annex is especially valuable for foreigners, as the classes are 
small and the work carried on with much more enthusiasm both by profes- 
sors and students than at the university. All Americans who have gradu- 
ated from a college, never mind of what grade, can enter the university, as 
well as the annex, as workers, while among the hearers at the annex are a 
number who do not possess a degree. The Gottingen library is one of the 
finest in Germany, and can be freely used by all students. 

Among the professors of note at Gottingen are Prof. M. Heyne, an au- 
thority on old German dialects and the compiler of the great German En- 
cyclopaedia ; Prof. E. Miiller, the well-known psychologist ; Prof, von 
Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, the inspiring interpreter of the Greek language 
and literature ; Prof. Morsbach (English Philology) ; Prof. Nernst, the 
chemist; Prof. Klein, the mathematician, etc. These all admit women to 
their courses and favor their o-etting a Ph.D. 

Come to Gottingen, therefore, if you can, but do yourselves and others 
the favor not to come unprepared. 

Auf Wiedersehn ! M. Muller. 


Fidelity was a very tiny maiden to be sent to bed in the dark alone, 
particularly in those days of real, live Indians and witches. It is no 
wonder that she used to jump into the warm depths of her English feather 
bed as expeditiously as possible, leaving her little garments in a disorderly 
heap on the floor. 

But Mistress Dobbins had discovered this " unwomanly slovenliness," 
and that very day had sought to improve the mind and morals of her small 
daughter by copious extracts from the Book of Proverbs. Poor little 


Fidelity, fearing that the whole Old Testament might be the penalty of a 
second offense, stood in the chilly attic room carefully shaking out and 
folding by itself each piece of clothing. When she shook her little woolen 
petticoat a horrible thing happened, — bright sparks of fire flew from it. 
A dreadful fear seized upon the child's mind : she was bewitched ; her 
naughtiness had exposed her to the attacks of those children of Satan. 

Usually it took not many moments for Fidelity's eyelids to close, but 
to-night she lay long, sobbing in terror, and making fervent resolutions to be 
a model of all womanly virtues in the future. 

The next few days were damp and warmer, and Fidelity had begun to 
rejoice over the total disappearance of her affliction, when another cold 
ni°ht brought the return of the witches' fire. The little ffirl's terror was 
indescribable ; she was in despair. Evidently reformation could not save 
her from her tormentors. She wondered if she would dare confess to her 
father, so that he might request for her the prayers of the godly, as they did 
for all those who were in trouble. 

She lay half benumbed with fear and weeping, when Jane, the hired 
woman, who shared her room, entered and prepared for bed. Mechanically 
the child's gaze followed her movements. Suddenly even Jane's stolidity 
was somewhat shaken by hearing a shrill, eager voice behind her, " O Jane, 
have they got thee too ? " 

She turned toward the little white figure sitting bolt upright in bed. 
" Why, child, what a start didst give me ! I thought thee a-dreaming this 
two hours. What aileth thee ? Hast the fever?" 

" Didst thou not see it, Jane?" cried the excited child. " When thou 
didst shake thy petticoat the witches' fire flew out of it. Thou art possessed 
too ! " 

Jane looked at her in wonder. Finally her dull wits grasped the 
situation ; she shook her head solemnly. 

" Foolish babe ! " said she. " Dost thou not know that fire? It is the 
light of the Spirit, wherewith the Lord doth ever surround his elect. Thou 
wilt never see it about the heathen savages or the ungodly." 

And little Fidelity sank back into her feather bed as content as if she 
had heard an able lecture on static electricity. 

Emily Budd Shultz, '94. 



It was in the waiting-room of one of Boston's crowded stores. The 
dim lights shone through crimson glass upon the Moorish hangings, flicker- 
ing over the carved oak, the subdued paintings, and flowing in little rills of 
light upon the polished floor. Dreamily I waited for the entrance of dusky 
beauties with lustrous eyes. I could hear the trailing of their soft robes, 
could see the grace of their supple forms, the rhythmical movement of cling- 
ing silken folds. 

A sharp grunt roused me from meditation. Glancing up, I saw a stout, 
red-faced Irish woman waddle across the room. In one hand she carried a 
basket of laundried clothes ; in the other, she clutched a leg of pork for her 
prospective dinner. She planted herself in a chair rich with carving, 
oriental in shape. Her freckled face leaned blandly against a scowling 
griffin ; her red hands reposed wearily upon the backs of shaggy unicorns. 
Comfortably she sat there, an embodiment of this age of poesy. 

C. W. J., '95. 


Two little children, one six and the other four, were talking together. 
" Sister, what are the stars?" the little boy asked. 

"The sky is the carpet of heaven," she replied, "and the stars are 
holes in it. When they shine brightly angels are walking over them." 

Christine Caryl, '95. 


The English department of Harvard University has been paying noble 
homage, during the past few months, to the Elizabethan drama. Professor 
Wendell's suggestive study of Shakespeare's art was closely followed by 
Mr. Baker's thoroughgoing little volume on Lyly, and now, this happy 
twentieth of March, Jonson has had his innings. All welcome to Rare Ben ! 
His aggressive individuality, his blustering, domineering vanity, his vituper- 
ative quarrels with Dekker, with Marston, with Inigo Jones, and, no less, 
with the playgoing public at large, are mellowed by the haze of time into 
picturesque relief. Three centuries wear the sting out of a scolding. For 



all his bullying, one feels in the autocrat of the Mermaid Tavern the glow of 
a great, live soul, — a spirit genial and sincere, vested with a gigantic talent 
amounting almost to genius, and with a ponderous morality falling but a little 
short of religion. To "the spacious times of great Elizabeth" belongs his 
hugeness of mind ; to a North Country ancestry his roughness of manners 
and energy of conscience ; to London his unlovely realism. " Brought up 
poorly," the son of hardship developed a burly self-assertion. His lack of 
university training accounts, if truth must out, for the wide extent of his 
learning, and also for his parade of it. In that clums3 r and ailing body of 
his, a misfit that his own pen derided, he was never quite at home upon the 
planet, and his inability to achieve popular success made him the more irri- 
tably sensitive to attack. But the man, for all his faults, was a close student 
and a conscious artist. He had nothing of Shakespeare's divine ease. He 
labored terribly, and much of what he wrote must be read to-day with re- 
sponsive labor, if not with weariness and distaste. In tragedy, Jonson is, 
not to mince matters, a failure, but his satiric comedy, as tart as Shakes- 
peare's romantic comedy is sweet, may well be counted on the side of suc- 
cess. In saying this, nobody means the most of his comedies. Everybody 

"The Fox, The Alchemist, and The Silent Woman, 
Done by Ben Jonson, and outdone by no man," 

with, perhaps, the addition of the broad farce of " Bartholomew Fair." 

"The Silent Woman" was the comedy chosen for the Harvard revival. 
In one respect, at least, the choice was good. Jonson was a dramatic dog- 
matist. He believed that a play should be written after the classical form 
and with ethical intent. The moral of " The Silent Woman" is far to seek, 
but the unities of time and place are so punctiliously observed that Dryden 
chose this drama for analysis as " the pattern of a perfect play." The time 
occupied in the action scarcely exceeds three hours ; no more time than 
would be required for stage presentation if the Harvard professors were not 
— a bad example to youth — so proficient in cutting. The scene is laid in 
London, and mainly in one house. The continuity of action is seldom 
broken. The intrigue aims at settling the estate of old Morose, — whose 
eccentricity it is that he cannot endure the slightest noise save the sound of 


his own voice — upon his nephew Dauphine. Much to the disgust of this 
would-be heir, Morose entertains thoughts of matrimony, but is beguiled 
into wedding Epicoene, a maid of lowly courtesies and shy, inaudible replies, 
who, straightway on the priestly blessing, is violently transformed into any- 
thing but a silent woman, and after driving her poor old husband nearly 
mad by the cumulative uproar of the bridal revelry, is finally exposed by 
Dauphine, who makes the inheritance a condition of his uncle's release, as a 
romping boy. 

This, if not over exquisite, is all capital fun, and laughter is fed afresh 
from act to act with the vanities of the Ladies Collegiate, the rash, disas- 
trous boasts of henpecked Captain Otter, and the mutual terror of the two 
foolish fops. The comedy runs close upon the line of farce. Improbabili- 
ties are merrily winked at. Nineteenth century risibles may be a trifle stiff 
in respect to a mirth that is made up merely of the boisterous and the ludi- 
crous, tiptop extravagance of whimsicality, sheer riot of practical joking; 
but when the play is acted with such intelligence and spirit as at Sanders 
Theatre, it is only a very hard-headed critic indeed who can growl at the end 
of the performance, as one Cambridge worthy was overheard to do, " Now 
I call this most awful stuff." 

Of far more interest than the drama itself, however, was the Elizabethan 
setting. We looked in vain, to be sure, for a boat across the Charles, nor 
was the " olde weathercock over Powles steeple" in sight; but the trum- 
peter sounded his blast from an upper casement as signal that the play was 
to commence, the flying flag announced to all the Bankside that the fun was 
in full swing, and the stage of three hundred years ago greeted our eyes. 
This was an open platform built out toward the audience and backed by a 
wall rising in two stories to the bannered turret. The wall presented win- 
dows, pillared balconies, and, below, two greenroom entrances, with an arras 
hung between. There were two side-boxes, one for the court — a feature of 
the private rather than the public theatres of Elizabethan times — and one for 
the very dolorous musicians. There was no curtain, although allusions to a 
curtain certainly occur in the plays of the period, — as this, in the conclusion 
of a tragedy : — 

" Thus end our sorrows with the setting sun: 
Now draw the curtains, for our scene is done." 


The stage properties were of the simplest description, — chairs, a table, a 
lounge, two wardrobes. These were brought in and shifted about by serv- 
ants of the theatre, reminding one of such stage directions as this in Hey- 
wood's " Witches of Lancashire " — " A bed thrust out, Mrs. Generous in it." 
There was nothing on this occasion quite so naive, however, as another stage 
direction in that same play of Heywood's, — "Enter an invisible spirit." 
There was a conventional Prologue in " a black velvet cloak and a bay gar- 
land." The stage was somewhat thinly strewn with what the audience strove 
to regard as green rushes, and the gallants who lay at full length among 
these, or who sat on the six-penny stools which their gay little pages had 
secured for them from the theatre boy, reminded one, in their impassive dis- 
dain, of a passage from Jonson's " Every Man out of his Humor." 

Carlo Buffone. — And when you come to plays, be humorous, look with 
a good starch'd face, and ruffle your brow like a new boot, laugh at nothing 
but your own jests, or else as the noblemen laugh. That's a special grace, 
you must observe. 

Sogliardo. — I warrant you, sir. 

Car. — Ay, and sit on the stage and flout, provided you have a good 

Sog. — O, I'll have a suit only for that, sir. 

The suits of gallants, pages and actors were indeed so bright and good 
it was hard to realize that such had ever been " human nature's daily food,'' 
while the doings of these make-believe Sidneys and Pembrokes and South- 
amptons were of vivid interest to the galleries as well as to the pit. 
Whether the fops gambled with one another, or ogled the ladies in the 
royal box, or smoked in their long pipes the new Virginian tobacco, they 
were sure to be, between the acts, the observed of all observers. The 
dress of the prentices and citizens that thronged ( ! ) the pit was dull in 
hue, the round woolen caps and fustian blouses making an effective contrast 
with the resplendent satin cloaks and silken hose, embroidered doublets 
and feathered hats, that glistened on the stage. The sober-clad burghers 
found their hands full with looking after a giddy city-wife who sat among 
them, but the jolly prentices had leisure to buy fruit from the coquettish 
orange-girl, and penny literature from the tousled little ballad monger, in 
addition to all the pressing attentions, sometimes in form of apple cores, 


sometimes in form of cater waulings, which they bestowed upon the fops 
and pages. The Victorian or, in patriotism, Clevelandese fraction of 
the audience was a little disappointed that the Jacobean fraction behaved, 
on the whole, so well. It was not ours to see what, for instance, Edmund 
Gayton saw : — 

" I have known upon one of these festivals, but especially at Shrovetide, 
when the players have been appointed, notwithstanding their bills to the 
contrary, to act what the major part of the company had a mind to ; some- 
times " Tamerlaine," sometimes " Jugurth," sometimes " The Jew of Malta," 
and sometimes parts of all these ; and at the last, none of the three taking, they 
were forced to undress and put off their tragic habits, and conclude the day 
with " The Merry Milkmaids." And unless this were done, and the popular 
humor satisfied, as sometimes it so fortuned that the players were refractory, 
the benches, the tiles, the laths, the stones, the oranges, apples, nuts, flew 
about most liberally ; and as there were mechanics of all professions, who 
fell every one to his own trade, they dissolved a house in an instant and 
made a ruin of a stately fabric." 

It was not so at Sanders Theatre. " The Silent Woman" met with the 
favor of the audience, the players were unmolested, and the ingenious 
erection of architect and scholar was left standing. To so conjure up from 
the " vasty deep " of time the stage that Shakespeare and his fellows knew 
is a worthy feat, and one for which we may well confess ourselves heartily 
grateful. But who will undertake to revive the English drama? When 
will Harvard graduate a Shakespeare? 

Katharine Lee Bates. 



Courteous reader, we would revive a good old custom, long since 
disused, and beg a word with you. " The old order changeth, yielding 
place to new," and with this April number of the Magazine we of the edi- 
torial board of '96 give you hearty greeting. Retrospect and forecast meet 
in our present. We look back over the honored records of the boards that 
have been, and augur from their success good fortune for those that are to be. 
As the burden of responsibility, plus privilege, plus dignity, descends upon 
us from the graceful shoulders of '95, which have borne it so faithfully and 
so well, we realize that we stand face to face with a new era of our college 
life. We are responsible, henceforth, for the standard of Wellesley's 
literary achievement as expressed in the columns of the Magazine ; but we 
take this opportunity of following one item of the advice bestowed upon us 
by '95, and state that we cannot bear this responsibility alone. As we enter 
upon the duties of the editorship, we call upon each friend of Wellesley, be 
she undergraduate, alumna, or faculty, to give us hearty aid and co-opera- 
tion in our work. So shall the Magazine fulfill its high purpose, and 
become in very truth " the exponent of college loyalty and college spirit." 

The privileges of the Editorial Ego are of too personal a character to be 
divulged even to so sympathetic a circle as the readers of the Magazine. 
Suffice it to say that they are many ; and that '95 has most generously 
transmitted them entire, even to this least but most embarrassing honor, the 
writing of the first editorial of the month ! 

Of the dignity we modestly forbear to speak. Although its existence 
at the present time may perhaps be questioned, we would assure you that it has 
actually arrived, and is being even now adjusted to the growing needs of '96. 
But we acknowledge that it is something dim and shadowy, not yet ready 
for the harsh light of " the common day." For its perfect and final develop- 
ment we refer our readers to the opening of chapel the first Tuesday of the 
next college year ; our only regret being that '95 will not be here to see. 

With hearty thanks to the editorial board of '95, which has been our 
teacher and our guide, and with good greeting once again to you, O gentle 


reader of our pages, we leave you to their perusal. We would recommend 
our failures to jour mercy ; our successes, if the year shall bring us such, to 
your appreciation ; and our aims, in any possible event, to your highest 
ideals of the Wellesley Magazine. 


Although we appreciate thoroughly the spirit of liberality and interest 
shown by the Committee of Visitors to the Department of Physical Training, 
we feel strongly that the " chain of letters "scheme of raising money is not in 
keeping with the dignity of college women. There is probably no one 
among us who has not been wearied by chain-letter appeals to give money to 
causes in which we have no vital interest, and to solicit like generosity 
from our friends. To plead the cause of Wellesley in this way seems to us 
wholly unwise. We believe that the system itself is at fault, involving, as 
it must, a large expenditure of stamps and time. If one could imagine all 
large enterprises being carried on by the chain-letter s} r stem, the picture 
would be suggestive, and the waste incurred would become apparent. It is 
farthest from our wish to seem ungrateful toward any who have the best 
interest of the College at heart, and we are glad to acknowledge through the 
pages of the Magazine the generosity and enterprise which has characterized 
the work of those interested in Physical Training at Wellesley. In this 
instance, however, we do not feel that the means is worthy of the end, and 
would state that the use of the scheme was not sanctioned by the college 
authorities, and that circulars of this nature have been recalled as far as 


The loan collection of portraits of women, now on exhibition at 
Copley Hall, is of unusual interest. The exhibition is for the purpose of 
raising funds for charity, but all lovers of art must consider the privilege of 
seeing the collection a still greater charity to themselves. The portraits 
belong to private collections, and many of them are likenesses of women who 
bore the names which have been famous in New England for generations. 


The exhibition is distinctly American, being, in general, portraits of Ameri- 
can women by American artists, although one notices half a dozen by Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, two Gainsboroughs, one or two by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 
and a few by French artists. 

To find forty Copleys in one collection is rare good fortune, especially 
so when they are found in company with the paintings of Sargent, 
Washington Allston, William Page, and Sir Thomas Lawrence. The 
quaint, conventionalized portraits of Colonial dames are finely contrasted 
with the decidedly modern portraits by Julian Story. Fair Dorothy " Q," 
whose praises were sung by Oliver Wendell Holmes, seemed pleasantly 
familiar, as did also the portrait of Alice Freeman Palmer, by Abbott 

In these degenerate days of cameras, when people order pasteboard 
likenesses of themselves by the dozen, the dainty fragility of a miniature 
possesses a peculiar charm, — a charm none the less strong, even in the 
presence of Copleys and Reynolds. One cannot but rejoice to find many 
modern faces vying with the stately beauties of the past, nor fail to note 
that the exquisite delicacy of Malbone is rivaled by the wonderful skill of 
modern American miniature painters. The collection of Marie Antoinettes 
and Mary Stuarts is wonderfully beautiful, but they are no more charming 
than the miniatures of many American society women. 

The Copley Hall exhibition possesses an individuality quite distinct 
from that of the exhibitions at St. Botolph's, the Boston Art Club, and the 
Art Museum. The diversity displayed in the treatment of the same subject, 
the number of artists represented, and the historical interest of many of the 
pictures, contribute to make it one of the most delightful exhibitions of the 


There is a strong feeling on the part of the editorial boards both of '95 
and of '96 that Free Press articles should be signed by at least the initials 
of their writers. It is well understood that the editors do not hold them- 


selves responsible for such articles; but that the Free Press stands, or 
should stand, as the unfettered utterance of personal, or class, or college 
feeling, as the case may be. 

We should be willing to stand by our opinions ; to have the courage of 
our convictions sufficiently, at least, to own them as ours. The Free Press 
invites discussion, but a discussion carried on over a mysterious opinion 
floating from no one knows where, is not very satisfactory. Let us inaugu- 
rate a reform in this respect. Let us write upon every subject that comes 
up that will tend toward the bettering of our college life, but let us stand 
heartily by our own view of the question, whatever that view may be. 

The editors take this opportunity of stating that they do not hold 
themselves bound to publish any anonymous articles. Only the initials 
need appear in the Magazine, if the writer so wishes ; but the editors should 
in every case know the name of the contributor. 

Maey Grace Caldwell, for the '95 Board. 
Mary Hollands McLean, for the '96 Board. 


There are certain things each member of society owes to society at 
large : sympathy and participation in human interests, a giving of self in 
sharing personal experiences with others, are necessary requirements. 
Besides this element of participation and giving, there is another element 
quite as much to be desired, — the art of withholding. This truth is one for 
due reflection on the part of all members of the social body, but especially 
should it find a dwelling place in the mind of " the girl who lives with her 
transom open." 

It may be difficult at first thought to convince one's self that the sound 
of high revelry and gay laughter are not an inspiration to the diligent 
student across the way, who is striving to solve a problem of an obtuse 
nature, or that the neighbor on the right is ever awakened from a refreshing 
slumber with anything but thoughts of good-will toward the one who en- 
tertains her friends with the transom open. Yet, if the one who is disposed 
to share her social pleasures with the community at large should reflect for 
a little, it might occur to her that such is the case. 


The reflection carried further might make it appear also that the sound 
of vivacious conversation or friendly combat issuing from an open transom 
does not assist materially in fixing the attention upon the work of the class 
room, nor is it the source of any peculiar pleasure to those passing through 
the halls. On the contrary, it often is the cause of serious disturbance and 
annoyance ; a disturbance and annoyance that a little thought will remedy. 

It is well to consider what personal experiences and pleasures will be 
met with pleasure by society in general ; and when the suspicion arises that 
the entire community does not care to enter into the hilarious enjoyment of 
a few, to exercise the gentle art of withholding, by shutting the transom. 

S. C. W., '95. 


Free discussion and criticism are necessary to advance, and public 
opinion must be taken into consideration as an active and potent factor in 
questions of general import. Public opinion is formed by individual de- 
baters and critics, and therefore the responsibility for public opinion is an 
individual one. 

Those who make up a community and form the opinion that pervades 
it, should remember two things at least : that discussion and criticism to be 
of value must be based on a clear understanding of facts ; and that one can 
ill afford, as a personal matter, to utter complaints constructed on false 
premises or criticize something that does not exist as a grievance. Failure 
to observe the first is a wrong to the community, for it creates an opinion at 
variance with the actual state of affairs ; carelessness in the second distorts 
one's entire view of life, creates a false basis for judgment, and may be the 
source of irremediable error. 

It may be true that the half-thoughtless judgment passed by most of 
us upon persons and affairs has no evil intent, and is but the result of passing 
thought and momentary grievance on the part of the one who criticises, yet 
the absence of malicious thought does not remove individual responsibility. 
We are, each and all, as members of the college or any social community, 
responsible for prevalent public opinion. Let us endeavor in all discussions 
and criticisms to see that accepted opinion and actual facts agree. 

W., '95. 



The exchanges of March come to us abounding in hopeful ex pectations 
for a new year with the various announcements of editorial elections. To all 
we give a hearty greeting, and we stretch the editorial hand across the broad 
country in genial fellowship and good-will for the touch which brings our 
colleges nearer together in the common effort of hard-working editors to 
arouse a strong, progressive college spirit. May we all prosper — and we are 
very hopeful ; for despite the appeals this month in the editorial pages of such 
good magazines as those of Vassar and Williams, heartrending appeals for 
interest and contribution rampant in so many exchanges, we yet find that 
never a month passes which does not bring to us in the exchanges some good 
work in clear, firm essay and criticism, some bright original stories, or new 
thought in verse. 

Of all these departments of college literature, that of the short story is 
perhaps the most fruitful. This month we note especially two short sketches 
in the Vassar Miscellany, "By Nature's Law," and "The Speaking of 
Grandma Karr," both exponents of the unfailing sway of human nature. 
The Amherst and the Williams Literary Monthlies contain several good 
stories, while the Michigan Inlander has its usual number of " Co-ed" tales. 

In many magazines there is a noticeable decrease in the number of the 
long essays, and this month finds very little that can be called the " heavy 
article." ' ' An Exponent of the Best in Realism," in The Mount Hoi yoke, is a 
well-written appreciation of ' ' Characteristics " by Dr. Weir Mitchell ; to be 
compared with this is the leading article of the Smith College Monthly, — a 
discussion of the modern novel, under the title of ' ' The Preacher versus the 
Artist." Among the lighter essays " Bibliohagi," in the Williams Literary 
Monthly, deserves mention as a bright treatment of the various species of the 
" bookeater," or the man who " resembles, reflects, in fact is, what he has 
read." Another readable article is a distinctly well-written sketch of George 
William Curtis, under the title of " A Belated Knight Errant," concluded in 
the February Inlander, where we also find a poem which we think worthy of 
mention, " The Moorish Girl." 

The month's verse is meager, for we grieve to confess that the college 
rhymster of late deals not often with abstract things, and his verse reflects 
wdth unswerving faithfulness a certain calendar coloring. He thrills in uni- 


son, all over the land, with the beauty of autumn and the harvest ; he turns his 
thoughts to the dainty form of the snowflake, and chimes them with ye merry 
Christmas bells ; breathes his passion into a valentine ; but in March, that 
uncertain time between times, he is assuredly at loss for a subject. How 
truly we are the " slaves of fad and fashion," the editor on a wild quest for 
verse in the month of March fully realizes. It is not spontaneous. 
After much search we clip the following : — 


A silent sea of solid swells and crests, 

Across whose barren wastes the flight of time 

Has passed with noiseless wings, and left no sign 
Of human habitation; no bequests 

Of beauty, culture, art, or native grace. 
This swelling ridge of earth on which I stand, — 
A single wave of one vast, rolling land, 

That meets my gaze where'er I turn my face, — 
A soundless, treeless wilderness; it seems 

Fresh from the hand of God, without the stain 

Of human sin, and suffering, and shame; 
A land of future promise and of dreams. 

Now, like mid-ocean, it appears to me 

Only a type of God's immensity. 

— Harvard Advocate. 


If when the day has been sped with laughter, 

Mirth and song as the light wind blows, 
A sob and a sigh come quickly after — 
Who knows ? 

If eyes that smile till the day's completeness 

Droop a little at evening's close, 
And tears cloud over their tender sweetness — 
Who knows ? 

If lips that laugh while the sun be shining, 

Curved as fair as the leaf of a rose, 
Quiver with grief at day's declining — 
Who knows ? 

If the heart that seems to know no aching 

While the fair, gold sunlight gleams and glows, 
Under the stars be bitterly breaking — 
Who knows ? 

— The Kalends. 



Scribble, scribble, night and day, 
My lady has a deal to say. 
Scratching, scratching, day and night, 
My lady has a deal to write. 

Up and down in ceaseless motion, 
My inky tears would fill an ocean. 
Oh, is there no revenge to try ? 
Fine-pointed thought ! I can run dry ! 

— Vassar Miscellany. 


The Technique of Sculpture, by William Ordway Partridge. Ginn & 
Company, Boston. 

The name of William Ordway Partridge on the title-page of a book 
at once commands the attention of a reader of his work on American Art. 
The present tasteful little volume, having as its theme, "Technique in 
Sculpture," begins with a history of sculpture, which, though characterized 
by the author as "brief," occupies more than half of the volume. Mr. 
Partridge traces the growth of the art from the days of ancient Egypt, 
dwelling at some length on sculpture in America. This half of the volume 
seems to us far less valuable and original than does the other, dealing, as it 
does, with a subject much more fully treated in books readily accessible to 
almost any student. 

When, however, Mr. Partridge once reaches the true "Technique of 
Sculpture," he is entertaining as well as instructive. He treats first of the 
studio, its requisites and luxuries, and of the tools necessary to the sculptor, 
describing the method of manufacture of the necessary appliances with a 
clearness truly delightful to the impecunious young sculptor. He then 
passes, rapidly but lucidly, on from the simplest relief-modeling in clay to 
the large model statue studied from life, carefully instructing as to the manu- 
facture of the " skeleton," " butterflies," etc., and emphasizing at every turn 
the necessity for thorough, conscientious work. He discusses cast making 
and bronze casting, and finally cutting in marble. Here he destroys an 
illusion of the uninitiated by showing that the sculptor actually does almost 
no carving, but leaves this part of the labor to the workman. Mr. Partridge 
closes with some useful information upon art study abroad and at home. 


The appendix contains a list of sculptors and their principal works, a 
full bibliography of the subject, a catalogue, and slight criticism of the lead- 
ing art publications in the country, and finally a list of bronze foundries. 

Taken as a whole, the little book fulfils admirably the purpose which 
the author indicates in his preface. Illustrated fully and clearly, as it is, it 
furnishes the most explicit of guides for the beginner ; and cannot fail to 
prove attractive, both by reason of its pleasing exterior and chatty, enter- 
taining contents, to the reader ignorant of sculpture. 

Alfred de Musset, by L. Oscar Kuhns. Ginn & Co. 

Unlike Mr. Partridge, Professor Kuhns aims to furnish aid to the 
advanced student. In his ' ' Selections from the Poetry and Comedies of 
Alfred de Musset," he assumes for the student a somewhat extended knowl- 
edge of French, and above all a desire for accurate and detailed study of 
Musset. Professor Kuhns has selected the acknowledged best of Musset's 
poems, "Souvenir," "La Nuit de Decembre," " Lettre a Lamartine," 
" L'espoir en Dieu," and, best of all, "La Nuit de Mai," and gives them 
entire ; he includes also, " Lucie," " La Nuit d'Octobre," " La Nuit de Aout," 
" A la Malibran," and parts of "Rolla" and " La Coupe etLes Levres." To 
these poems he adds three of Musset's comedies, " A quoi revent les jeunes 
filles," " On ne badine pas avec l'amour," and " Un Caprice," unsurpassed 
perhaps, in their way, by anything in the French language. 

Professor Kuhns prefaces his selections by a short sketch of Musset's 
life, which sketch is distinguished by its sympathetic insight into the real 
beauties of a character which was in the main characterized by weakness, 
vacillation, and ungoverned passions. His genial and openly expressed 
admiration does not, however, blind him to the weakness which does really 
exist in most of Musset's work ; but this admiration or something (one 
cannot help wondering what) wholly unfits him to recognize the good in 
the work of Victor Hur/o. The careers and writings of the two contem- 
poraries frequently come into contrast in Professor Kuhns's pages, and 
nowhere does this contrast fail to be detrimental to Victor Hugo. The 
author treats George Sand very indulgently, however, in his refei'ence to her 
liaison with Musset ; and everywhere, except in the instances just men- 
tioned, takes the broadest and most forbearing of views. 

The notes to this edition appeal to us as in every way superior. They 
emphasize the study of the selections rather as literature than as language 


lessons ; and are particularly rich in elucidations of allusions to Musset's 
private literary experience. Recognizing as he does Musset's indebtedness 
to various sources, Professor Kuhns strives to bring before the student 
parallel passages from the French, German, Italian, and English, which 
probably influenced the writer. Professor Kuhns says that he aims to 
stimulate the student to the study of French from a literary standpoint, and 
above all to aid him in the comparative study of literature. Toward this 
goal the present volume cannot fail to be a great advance. 


Technique of Sculpture, by William Ordway Partridge. Ginn & Co., 
Boston. Cloth, 90 cents. 

Alfred de Musset, by L. Oscar Kuhns. Ginn & Co., Boston. Cloth, 

Selections from P. K . Rosegger's Wcddheimat, edited by Laurence 
Fossler, A.M. Ginn & Co. Cloth, 35 cents. 


A regular meeting of Phi Sigma was held March 2, in Society Hall. 
The subject of the second semester's work is "Dante." The first meeting 
was devoted to Dante's Life and Times, and the Vita Nuova. 

I. Dante's Relation to his Age . . . Julia H. Lyman. 
II. The Influence of Dante's Personal Ex- 
perience upon his Art . . Susan D. Huntington. 
Presentation: "Beatrice de Portinari, 
on All Saints' Day "... 

III. A Critical Study of the Vita Nuova . May Woodin. 

Recitation : Vita Nuova, Section XXXV. 

Browning's ' ' One Word More " . Alice Schouler. 

IV. A Comparison of Dante and Beatrice 

with Petrarch and Laura . . Martha Dalzell. 

Miss Longley, '94, Miss Stanwood, '94, and Miss Eastman, '91, were 
present at the meeting. 



A regular meeting of Phi Sigma was held March 23, in Society Hall. 
The following programme was given on Dante's "Inferno" : — 

I. The Structure of the Divine Comedy 
II. The Cosmology of Dante 
in. Dante's Descent to the Pit of Hell 

Music .... 

IV. The System of Punishments . 

Mrs. Hart, '82, was present at the meeting. 

Anna C. Witherle. 

Mary E. Chase. 
Louise C. Warren. 

Martha Dalzell. 
Helen James. 

The regular meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held on March 16. The 
subject of the meeting was The South, and the programme was as follows : — 

The Poor Whites of Tennessee, from Charles 

Egbert Craddock 

Martha Hale Shackford. 

Old Virginia, from Thomas Nelson Page Elizabeth Hale Peale. 

The Trappist Monks of Kentucky, from James 

Lane Allen ..... Agnes Louise Caldwell. 
The Creoles, from George W. Cable . . Mary Montgomery. 

The regular programme meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held in 
Shakespeare Hall, Saturday evening, February 23. The subject of the even- 
ing's study was " The Winter's Tale." The programme consisted of: — 

I. Shakespeare News .... 
II. A Plot Study of The Winter's Tale . 

III. Dramatic Representation : The Winter's 

Tale: Act IV. Scene n. 

IV. " The Winter's Tale" and " Othello" ; A 

Comparative Study 
V. Beauties in the Text of the Play . 
VI. Discussion : The Scenes of The Winter's 


VII. Dramatic Representation : Act TV. Scene II. 

Florence Bennett. 
Grace Waymouth. 

Effie Work. 
Ada M. Belfield. 



Annie E. Cobb. 
Louise McJS T air. 

Regular meeting of Agora Society, held March 16. 
Impromptu speeches. 
I. The Woman's National Council at Wash- 
ington . . . Miss Thompson, Miss Davis. 
II. The Proposed Monetary Conference . Miss Zeigler. 
III. The China- Japan Treaty . . . Miss Smith. 

The following programme was then presented : — 

I. Support and Government of the Public 
Schools ..... 

II. Curricula ...... 

III. The School in Politics . . Abigail H. Lauarhlin. 

Miss Julia Colles, '97, was taken into the society. 

On March 23 Professor Wenkebach gave a paper on "The German 

The regular meeting of the Classical Society was held on Friday even- 
ing, March 22. The subject for the evening was " Cicero," and the follow- 
ing programme was given : — 

I. Cicero in Public Life .... Caroline J. Peck. 
II. Recitation : Impeachment of Verres. 

Chapter LXVI. . . . Grace B. Townsend. 

III. Cicero at Home ..... Mary E. Chapin. 

IV. Translation from the Poet Archias . Florence Hastings. 

On Saturday, March 2, Professor Lord, Miss Kahn, and Miss Haynes enter- 
tained the society at College Hall. 

At a meeting of Tau Zeta Epsilon, held Friday evening, March 15, Miss 
Ellen M. Cushing, '96, Miss Jessie M. Durrell, '97, and Miss Lulu J. Hol- 
den, Sp., were initiated into the society. The regular meeting of the society 
was held Saturday evening, March 23. The programme was as follows: — 

The Landscape Painters. 

T. Life and Work of Turner 
II. Work of Constable .... 
III. Development of Landscape Art since 
Constable ..... 

May Kellogg. 
Alberta Welch. 

Lucy Willcox. 


The Animal Painters. 

I. Work of George Morlancl . . . Alice Norcross. 

II. Work of Landseer .... Warrene Piper. 

III. Breton Riviere ..... Bessie Gates. 


Saturday, April 13. — Lecture. Dr. Edward Everett Hale. 

Sunday, April 14. — Easter. 

Monday, April 15. — Reading. Miss Ida Benfey. 

Saturday, April 20. — Professor Churchill. 

Sunday, April 21. — Rev. Thos. Gulick preaches. 

Monday, April 22. — Concert. 

Saturday, April 27. — Temperance Debate. 

Monday, April 29. — Lecture. Mrs. Livermore. 


Miss Ella Willcox, accompanied by several members of the class in 
Journalism, made a tour of inspection through one of the large newspaper 
offices in Boston, on Monday, March 4. 

The Germania orchestra gave a concert on Monday evening, March 4. 

Miss Nichols, '95, who has been compelled to leave college because of 
ill health, spent Tuesday, March 5, at the College. 

The delicate consideration shown by the '95 " Legenda" Board in 
advertising the mislaid manuscript poem, was actuated doubtless by the 
memory of their own treasured notebook, so recently lost — and found. 

Mr. Humphrey Ward, Miss Ward, and Mrs. Palmer, accompanied by 
friends from Boston, visited Wellesley on Thursday, March 7. 

It is said that when the constitution adopted by the Class of '98 is made 
known, there will be a revision of the faulty documents which have served 
the other classes in the capacity of constitution. But the master stroke is 
the provision wmereby four fifths of the class may remain comfortably at 
home while the other fifth manages the weighty affairs of business. 


On Saturday evening, March 9, the Agora Society gave, at its annual 
open meeting, a presentation of a city common council. The meeting was 
opened in the usual manner, by impromptu speeches on topics of the day. 
Miss Parker, '96, acted as chairman of the council ; the chief subject of debate 
was, "Shall the city of Middlesex control its gas works?" The speakers 
were: Miss Haskell, Miss Young, '96, Miss Hadley, '96, Miss Bixby, '97. 
The presentation was highly realistic, the characters were well carried out, 
and the audience was filled with pride in contemplating the dignity of 
Democratic institutions. After the council adjourned, an informal reception 
was held. 

In anticipation of the eclipse of the moon on Sunday night, Prof. Whiting 
gave an interesting lecture on "Eclipses," Saturday afternoon, March 9. 

The Junior Class gave a reception to the Class of '98, on Monday after- 
noon, March 11. An original play, called " Youth 'Gainst Time and Age," 
was presented. The dramatis personam were : Miss Abigail Simpkins, Miss 
Pullen ; Dorothea Hamilton, Miss Adams : Ann Mehitable Jones, Miss 
Burnett ; Squire Smithers, Miss Caldwell ; Lawrence Suglesworth, Miss 
Willis ; Josh Green, Miss Butler. 

On Monday evening, March 11, Prof. Win. Davis, of Harvard Univer- 
sity, delivered a lecture on " The Problems of the Weather Maps." 

Mrs. Capron, formerly a missionary in India, gave a Bible talk at the 
usual Thursday evening prayer meeting, March 14. 

A most interesting lecture was given by Mr. George P. Baker, Satur- 
day morning, March 16, on the " Baconian Drama." To those who were to 
have the good fortune to see the presentation of "The Silent Woman," at 
Harvard, the lecture was a delightful introduction. 

Miss A. F. Cummings, a missionaiy from South Africa, addressed the 
Missionary Society on Sunday evening, March 17. 

The usual Saturday afternoon lecture was given by Miss Kendall, the 
subject being " The Government of our Cities." 

On Monday evening, March 18, a vocal and instrumental concert was 
given. The vocalists were Miss Emma S. Howe, Miss Mabel Barber, Mrs. 


William T. Clark, and Mrs. Robert D. Carter. The violinist and pianist 
were Miss Marie T. Nichols and Miss Alice M. Wade. 

With the kindly though unasked assistance of the Sophomores, the class 
of '98 succeeded at last in electing their president, Miss Frances Hoyt. The 
other officers are : Miss Caveny, vice-president ; Miss Martha Dalzell, re- 
cording secretary ; Miss Higgins, corresponding secretary ; Miss Serviss, 
treasurer ; Miss Garwood and Miss Brooks, first and second historians ; Miss 
Malone and Miss Hoge, factotums. The members of the executive com- 
mittee are : Miss Scott, Miss Howells, Miss Doyle. 

A reception was given by the Freeman Seniors to their Junior and 
Senior friends on Saturday evening, March 16. 

On Saturday evening, March 16, the Amherst College Glee and Banjo 
Clubs gave a concert in the Wellesley Town Hall. 

Professor Fulton, head of the depai-tment of elocution at the State Uni- 
versity of Ohio, and also at the Ohio Wesleyan University, visited the elocu- 
tion department on March 22. 

President Smith, of Trinity College, Hartford, preached in the chapel 
on Sunday, March 24. 

Professor Hart, of Cambridge, visited Wellesley on Saturday, March 23. 
Mrs. Hart, a former Wellesley student, accompanied him. 

Professor Moulton, of Chicago University, who was to give lectures on 
Saturday and Monday evenings, March 23 and 25, was forced to cancel his 
engagement. Professor Willcox, of Cornell University, lectured on Monday 
evening in his place. The subject was ' ' Some Aspects of the Negro Problem." 

An announcement has been made recently that Wellesley is to have a 
Summer School, to be conducted by Professor Webster and Professor Hayes. 
The following courses are ofl'ered : Courses conducted by Professor Webster : 
( 1 ) Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin. Three hours per week. This 
course is planned with special reference to the needs of teachers of Greek 
and Latin. (2) Course of Readings in German Authors. Three hours per 
week. Selections will be read from standard writers on literary and scien- 
tific subjects. The object of this course is to gain facility in understanding 
German without translation. (3) Principles of English Composition, with 


daily practice in writing. Three hours per week. Lectures, discussions, 
and criticism of themes. (4) Historical Grammar of the English Language. 
Three hours per week. Illustrated by select readings. Courses conducted 
by Professor Hayes: (1) Methods of teaching Algebra and Geometry. 
Two hours per week. Especially designed for teachers who are preparing 
students for college. (2) Principles of Inference. Three hours per week. 
A course in deductive and inductive Logic, with illustrations from the 
writings of Newton, Darwin, Herschel, Lyell, and others. (3) One of the 
following subjects : Trigonometry, Analytic Geometry, Calculus, General 
Astronomy. Three hours per week. For information concerning Terms, 
Boarding, Accommodations, etc., address Summer School, Wellesley, 
Mass., Box 330. 


The Boston Branch of the Association of Collegiate Aluinme held a 
meeting March 13, at 3.30 p. m., at Boston University, 12 Somerset Street. 
Mr. Robert A. Woods, of the Andover House, told of lecture courses and 
night schools already available in Boston, and showed a point at which he has 
found a real need of University Extension Methods. Mr. William Cranston 
Lawton, stall' lecturer of the American Society for the Extension of Univer- 
sity Teaching, spoke on University Extension Methods in general, and gave 
particular attention to the ways and means of introducing them into Boston. 
The April meeting will be given up entirely to members for consideration of 
the subjects presented at the February and March meetings, with a view to 
deciding upon a definite plan of action. 

On March 2, 1895, the Boston Wellesley College Club held a meeting 
at Hotel Brunswick. After a short business meeting luncheon was served. 
The club was fortunate in having as guests Miss Irwin, Dean of Radcliife, 
Mrs. W. W. Goodwin of Cambridge, and Mrs. Irvine, all of whom added 
very greatly to the afternoon's enjoyment. 

The Wellesley Club of New York has arranged an entertainment 
which it is hoped will be of material benefit to the Students' Aid Society of 
Wellesley College. Mr. William Winter, Dramatic Editor of the New 


York Tribune, author of " Shakespeare's England," " Gray Days and Gold," 
etc., whose literary reputation is world-wide, kindly consented to give an 
informal lecture on the topic, "An Hour with the Actors," Saturday after- 
noon, March 16, at 2.45 o'clock. The lecture was delivered in the rooms 
of the Women's University Club, 23 West Forty-fourth Street, near Fifth 
Avenue. Mr. Winter, in his generous interest in our cause, gave the 
lecture Avithout charge. Through the kindness of one of the members the 
audience room was secured, and tea was served after the lecture. Almost 
the entire proceeds of the lecture will, therefore, be turned into the treasury 
of the Students' Aid Society, whose needs are imperative. Committee : 
Mrs. Franklin S. Billings, Mrs. John H. Raven, Miss Martha McFarland, 
Mrs. Hector M. Hitchings, Mrs. George A. Plimpton, Mrs. Walter L. 
Hervey, Mrs. Edwin F. See. 

The Southern Wellesley Association held an open meeting in Louis 
ville, February 12, at the residence of Mrs. Mary Young Allison. Miss 
Caroline L. Williamson, of Chicago, the Woman's Club of Louisville, and 
the Kentucky Vassar Association, were the guests of the afternoon. Miss 
Williamson gave a talk upon College Settlement Work, after which light 
refreshments were served, and the guests met Miss Williamson informally. 

The St. Louis Wellesley Club holds monthly meetings, and has fol- 
lowed a regular programme. The subject for this year is The Work of 
American Women. 

Prof. Vida D. Scudder expects to return to America in April. She 
spent March in England. 

Miss Malina A. Gilkey, '76-78, is librarian in the Mercantile Library 
of St. Louis. 

Miss Estelle Hurll, '82, spent Sunday, March 24, at College. 

A letter received from the college missionary, Dr. Julia Bissell, '86, is • 
dated ' ' Ahmednagar, India, Jan. 3 1 , 1895." It tells of her arrival at Bombay, 
January 18, and of a few days' visit there, and of her welcome by mission- 
aries and former pupils when she reached Ahmednagar. The following 
extract with regard to the opening of her work will be interesting to her 
Wellesley friends: "Before the few medicines I brought with me from 


America and from London were opened, a few sick ones began to come for 
help, and have been doing so ever since. I did not intend to begin work so 
soon, but it was impossible to refuse the children in our schools and the 
babies whom the women brought to me. So, for the present, I give out a 
few doses between eight and nine a. m., and again from ten to twelve or one, 
as the case may be. The wife of the Assistant Judge of this city came to 
see me this afternoon professionally. If I can help her it will be a great 
thing for this medical work. My patients have been chiefly babies, with 
some of the fathers and mothers also, and two missionaries. To-day I must 
have had twenty patients in all. After to-morrow I shall have an educated 
young man to help me in putting up powders and keeping records. We 
have not yet taken steps to look up a building in town anywhere. It 
probably will not be an easy matter to find just what we want ; or, having 
found, to secure it ; and, having secured, to furnish and fit it perfectly. How- 
ever, it does not all have to be done in a day." 

Miss Jessie E. Allen, '87, is teaching in Hosmer Hall, St. Louis, Missouri. 

Miss Anna Vieths, '87-88, is teaching music at her home, St. Louis. 

Mrs. Hannah Case Jarvis, '87-'89, and Miss Eline Vieths, '87-'88, are 
teaching physical culture in St. Louis. 

Miss Maud Crane, '89, is spending the winter in New York. 

Mrs. Mary Parker Callahan, formerly of '89, is living in Louisville, Ky. 
She has a daughter, Elizabeth, about six months old. 

The address of Mrs. Ella Hatch Lewis, '89, is 142 Rodney Street, 
Brooklyn, N. Y. Her husband is pastor of the New England Congregational 

Miss Caroline R. Fletcher, '89, is teaching at Abbott Academy, Andover, 

Miss Flora E. Hidden, '89, spent the summer of '94 in Europe. 

Miss Clara B. Mowry, '89, is teaching in the Melrose High School. 

The address of Mrs. Jessie Morgan Eaken, '89, is 973 North Leavitt 
Street, Chicago, 111. 


Miss Emilie de Rochemont, '89, is teaching in Wakefield, Mass. 

The engagement of Miss Bertha Stowell, '89, is announced. 

The engagement of Miss Emma Teller, '89, is announced. 

Miss Clara Look, '90, is at Colonel Parker's School, Englewood, 111. 

Miss Ethel Glover, '90, has returned to Washington from the University 
of Chicago. 

The address of Mrs. Evarts Ewing Munn, '87-90, is Benicia Arsenal, 
Benicia, Cal., where Major Munn is post surgeon. Benicia is thirty miles 
from San Francisco, and Mrs. Munn hopes that Wellesley people in California 
will hunt her up. 

Miss Louise Brown, '92, gave an illustrated lecture on "Japan," to a 
working girls' club, March 18. Miss Brown is studying German. 

Miss Florence Converse, '92, is giving a course of lectures on 
"Browning," in New Orleans. 

Miss Marion Day, '91-'92, spent the winter in St. Augustine, Florida. 

Miss Cornelia Green, '92, spent Sunday, March 24, with Miss Mary 
Lauderburn, '90, in Wellesley. 

Miss Maude By land Keller, '92, has recently visited in New York and 
Philadelphia. Miss Keller spent Sunday, March 17, with Miss Florence 
Hoopes, '93. 

Miss Alice Newman, '92, and Miss Sarah Bixby, '94, took an interesting 
trip through Chinatown, visiting the Joss House and homes of some Chinese 

Miss Candace Stimson, '92, has been elected a member of the local 
executive committee of the New York College Settlement. 

Miss Stimson and Miss Grace Underwood, '92, are doing social work, 
of which bo} r s' clubs and mothers' meetings form a large feature. 

Miss Alice Hamlin, '93, is studying at Cornell University. 

Mrs. Lucinda Prince, Sp., '91-93, has gone to Europe for four months. 

Miss Winifred Meyer, has recently joined Miss Emily Foley, in 



Miss Isabel Campbell, '94, recently gave "The Smith Family" in her 

Miss Edith Crapo, '94, has been visiting Mrs. Ruth Toof Brown, 
formerly '94, in Memphis, Tenn. 


The Settlement sends many thanks to the members of the Wellesley Glee 
Club who sang at the rooms Thursday evening, March 14. The singing was 
greatly enjoyed, and the heart of the Wellesley resident filled with pride when 
one of the neighbors remarked to her, ' ' We always know there's going to be 
something nice Avhen we hear that the Wellesley young ladies are coming." 

Miss Sue Huntington, Wellesley, spent two weeks in March at Denison 

Miss Ada S. Woolfolk, '91, who is assistant head worker at the New 
York Settlement this year, is visiting the Boston Settlement during her 

A class in penmanship has recently been started by one of the residents 
of Denison House at the Old Colony Chapel. The pupils are women gar 
ment- workers, who have not time to attend a night school. 


Nov. 5, 1894, a son, Arthur, to Sylvia Foote Gosnell, '89. Address, 
133 Clifton St., Rochester, N. Y. 

At 23 Clifton PL, Brooklyn, N. Y., on Dec, 16, 1894, a son, Pierre- 
pont Edwards, to Mary Edwards Twitchell, '89. 

January 29, 1895, in St. Louis, Mo., a son to Hannah Case Jarvis, 



At LeMars, Iowa, Feb. 21, 1895, William Robinson, only son of 
Edson N. Coleman and Emily Robinson Coleman. '86, aged one year and 
five months. 


Jameson & Knowles Company, 


Boots, Shoes, and 

Specialties: Custom Work, Party Shoes 


No. 15 Winter Street, Boston, 
U. S. A. 


Stationers *P Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

No. 3 Beacon Street, 


UR attention is called to our stock of 

Gold and Silver Stick Pins ! 
Birthday Gifts ! 

Souvenir Spoons, Souvenir Cups. 
Hair Ornaments. 

Toilet and Desk Furnishings in Sterling and Plated Silver; Marble and Iron Clocks, $6.00 to $20.00. 

Stock in all departments always complete. 

A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston. 

Cotrell & Leonard 

New York, 

Makers of 

Caps and 

To the 

American . . 

Illustrated ... 

Catalogue and 
% Particulars on 

Artists' Materials . . . 

£k Drafting Instruments. 
Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials 
For Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

Wadsworth, Howland & Co. 


82 and 84 Washington Street, Boston. 

Branch Store in the 

Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street, 

Near St. James Avenue. 
Principal Factories 

Maiden, Mass., and South Paris, Maine. 



Mackintoshes and Cravenettes, 

$2.00 TO $23.00. 

Prices 25 per cent lower than Dry Goods Stores. 
Special IO per cent to Wellesley Students 


Metropolitan Rubber Co., 




Ulellesley Preparatory, 


For circular address the Principals, 

Miss Charlotte H. Conant, B.A. 
Miss Florence Bigelow, M.A. 

Gloves and Veiling. 



Calls the attention of the Young Ladies to her stock of Kid. Undressed Kid, and Dog Skin Gloves that 

are suitable for all occasions, also her very becoming stock of Veilings, and solicits their 

patronage, and will give to any of the students 6 per cent discount. 

Hotel Bellevue, 



Special attention sjiven to Club Dinners and Receptions. 





Manufacturers of First-class 



Interior Decorations, 

Nos. 38 to 48 Cornhill, 

. . . BOSTON. 




in all Departments 
of Literature 

can be found at our store. The largest 
assortment in Boston of the popular and 
standard authors. Also a large variety 
at special reductions. Large variety of 
Bibles, Prayer Books, Booklets, etc. 

We are noted for low prices. 


The Archway Bookstore, 


Shreve. Crump I Lw Go. 

Jewelers *» Silveisitys, 


Fine Stationery. Card Engraving. 


Programs and Invitations, both printed and 
engraved. Class Day Progams a specialty. 

Class Pins designed and manufactured to 

Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re- 
covered and repaired. 

. .ONLY. . 

First Class Tftrougn Car Route 


Through Trains Leave Boston as follows : — 
8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special. 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. m. (ex. Sundays) St. Louis and 

Chicago Express. 
7.15 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express. 


Hartford, New Havens New York. 



9.00 a. m. 

(ex. Sunday) 

3.30 p. m. 

11.00 a. m. 

(ex. Sunday) 

5.30 p. m. 

4.00 p. m. 


10.00 p. m. 

11.00 p. m. 


6.41 a. m. 

For tickets. 

information, time-tables, etc., apply 

nearest ticket agent. 


General 1 

assenger Agent. 



New Tennis Catalogue is free; now ready, and will 
be sent to any address. 

Our General Athletic Catalogue will be issued 
April ist. 

Special rates to Wellesley Students. 


No. 344 Washington Street, 

(Near Milk), 


11 John Street, New york, 

Designer and Maker 

Society Badges, 
Fraternity Pins, 
Rings, Emblem 
Jewels of every 

MEDALS — Trophies for presentation, from original 
and artistic designs. Special designs, with esti- 
mates, furnished on application. Inquiries by 
mail promptly attended to. We send design 
plates FREE upon request. 

Wellesley Pins can be obtained from Miss EIiz= 
abeth Stark, Business Manager of Magazine. 

The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at 
Wellesley College. 

Price for'Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year; 
Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman, 
Sarah P. Eastman. 

IKHelleslq) jpbarmaop, 




Trunks and Bags, 

Pure Drugs and Medicines. 

No. 22 Chauncy Street, 

Physicians' Perscriptions a Specialty. 



Novelties in Crepe 


in Purest White and Softest Violet. 

OUR ART hfpaptmfnt ^^ 

is more attractive than ever before ; 
effects now obtained different and 
ahead of any past efforts. 



No. 28 Franklin Street, Boston. 

For Fine 

Visit . . . 



No. 21 Temple Place, 


• t ( P-KENtSONO ■'■'. . 

6»R0 p ?SK» 

Corns, 25 cents: 


plaster for tender feet, 25cts. 

Ladies 1 and Gentlemen's. rooms 
entirely separate " 


The Senior Class Photographer 

is . . . 

Cliarles W, Hearn, 

No. 392 Boylston Street, 

Boston, Mass. 

Arrange dates with the Senior Class Photograph 
Committee : 

Miss Bertha Morrill. 
Miss Caroline. Jacobus. 
Miss Sophie Voorhees. 

Also Photographer to . . . 

Amherst College 
Dartmouth College 
C5*^ Mt. Holyoke College . 

@ B. U. College of Liberal Arts 

Lasell Seminary 
Wesleyan University 
Etc., etc. 




The Standard for All. 


t ©olmbia 



Highest Quality of All. 



Have you feasted your eyes upon 
the beauty and grace of the 1895 
Columbias ? Have you tested and 
compared them with all others ? 
Only by such testing can you know 
how fully the Columbia justifies its 
proud title of the "Standard for the 
World." Any model or equipment 
your taste may require, $ fl QQ 





New York, 
San Francisco, 

An Art Catalogue of these 
famous wheels and of Hart- 
fortls, SSoSfo, free at Colum- 
bia agencies, or mailed for 
two j-cent stamps. 


Leonard N. Howe, D.M.D. 


Corner Boylston and Tremont Streets, 


Late Instructor of Operative and Surgical 
Dentistry in Harvard University. 

Office Hours, 9 A. M. to 5 P. M. 


Oculists' prescriptions correctly filled. 
Glasses carefully fitted and adjusted to 
insure nose comfort. 

Ten per cent discount to 
Wellesley Students. 

All kinds of spectacle repairing neatly executed. 
References given. 

CHARLES W. HURLL, Jr., Practical Optician, 

409 Washington St., (between Winter and Bromfield Sts.) 

•••Kine Carpets- •• 

the finest line of specialties in 


ever offered by us. these are all our patterns, with a full line 
of the famous london furnisher, 

William Morris's Patterns in Carpets and Hammersmith Rugs. 

We feel that our Fall Stock will bear the Closest Inspection. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Nos. 163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston. 


Muslin Underwear, Equipoise Waists, 

Ribbons and Laces. 

STAMPING done at short notice. 

J. B. LEAMY, Walcott Building, NATICK, HASS. 




Session '94-95 opens October 1, 1894. Four years, Graded Course. Instruction 
by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories 
and Dispensary of College, and in U. S. Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of 
the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students. 

For Catalogues, etc., address 


321 East 15th Street, New York. 


She : When we got our wheels last year we didn't suppose 
there could be any better ones, did we ? 

He : No ; but the '95's are ahead of them. They are 
lighter, and at the same time stronger, because of the new 
nickel-steel tubing. 

She : The saddles are more comfortable than ever before. 

He : Yes, and the wheels are safer, too. The guards, 
rubber pedals, foot rests, and brake work make them models 
for safety and comfort. 

She : And is it true that the price has been reduced when 
the wheels are so much improved ? 

He: Yes; the company has established the standard 
price at $100, which must insure a tremendous increase in 
the number used. 



Free Instruction to purchasers. 
All orders promptly executed. 
Catalogues free on application. 


Jf l&ittpf y°v, Aft. 
T 5 /Ct to P£2vue. 

Q°ir\.y? AcxrpiZ 

C/ fftL-irW JV Pe 




In every department of our store we allow Wellesley 

Professors and Students a discount, 

generally 10 per cent. 

During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home 
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request. 

Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery, 
Underwear and Art Embroideries 

are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies 
to every department. 


Tremont Street and Temple Place - - BOSTON, MASS. 

Formerly Designer for Celeste. 




In Attractive and Exclusive Designs specially 

adapted for young ladies, and not to 

be found elsewhere. 

SHAPES, constantly received and at 


ALLAND, 112 Tremont Street, 

Under Studio Building, Boston. 

146 Tremont Street, Boston. 

Branch of 

863'Broadway, St. V, 

Pure, Fresh, and Delicious 


A Choice Selection of Fancy Baskets, 
Boxes, and Bonbonnieres constantly 
on hand at very reasonable prices. . . 

Mail Orders given Prompt Attention. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Boston.